
! AMERICAN 
ACTINC DRAMA 




.-ai: :^>^ .a;^ J t [ PUBLISHED BY t ^r "^g av ^ r. a^ x;. :n 

DRAHATIC PUBLISniNC COriPAINYH 



^::3j CHARLES H SERCEL Presidant ^ ><K aK x:^::^ | 



-EXCHANGED. NO PLAYS SENT ON APPROVAL. 
Monograpk 



CAPT. RACKET 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS. 

BY 

Charles Townsend. 

PRICE 35 Cents. 



This latest play by Mr. Townsend will probably be one of bis 
most popular productions; it certainly is one of bis best. It is 
full of action from start to finish. Comic situations follow one 
after another, and the act-endings are especially strong and 
and lively. Every character is good and affords abundant oppor- 
tunity for_ effective work. Can be played by four men and three 
women if desired. The same scene is used for all the acts, and it 
is an easy interior. A most excellent play for repertoire cou"- 
panies. No seeker for a good play can aft'ord to ignore it. H 

CHARACTERS. | 

Capt. Robert Racket, one of the National Guard. A lawyeiS 

when he has nothing else to do, and a liar all the time A 

Comedy Lead ' 

Obadiah Dawson, his uncle, from Japan "where they mak( 
tea" Comedy Old Man . 

Timothy Tolman, his friend, who married for money ai:!d is 
sorry for it Juvenile 3Ian. 

Mr. DALROYjhis father in-law, a jolly old cove Eccentric. 

HoBSON, a waiter from the "Cafe Gloriana," who adds to the 
confusion • -. . Utility. 

Clarice, the Captain's pretty wife, out for a lark, and up to 
"anything awful" Comedy Lead. 

Mrs. Tolman, a lady with a temper, who finds her Timothy 
a vexation of spirit Old Woinan. 

Katy, a mischievous maid Souhrett^ 

Tootsy, the "Kid," Tim's olive branch Pro^) 

SYNOPSIS. 

ACT. [. Place: Tim's country home on the Hudson near New York. Tim. . 
A breezy morning in September, The Captain's fancy takes a flight and 
trouble begins. 

ACT. II. Place; the same; Time; the next morning. How one yarn re- 
quires another. "The greatest liar unhung," Now the trouble increases and 
the Captain prepares for war. 

ACT. III. Place: the same. Time: evening of the same day. More misery. 
A general muddle. "Dance or you'll die." Cornered at last. The Captain 
owns up. All serene. 

Time of playing: Two hours. 



Order .a sample copy, and see for yourself what a 
good play it /s. 



MARY WARNER. 



% §o\msiu §cnmu, 



IN FOUR ACTS. 



By TOM TATLOE, 

Author of " Ticket'Of-Leave-Jdan," "Henry Dunbar," " Tke Serf," "Plot and Pas* 
sion," etc., etc. 



?IKST I*ERFORMED AT THE HAYMARKET THEATRE, LONDON, 
UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF MR. J. B. BUCK8T0NE, 
ON MONDAY, JUNE 21, 1809. 



TO WHICH 13 ADDED 



& DESCRIPTION OP THE COSTUMES — CAST OP THE CHARACTEK3 BK" 

TRANCES AFD EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PER- 
FORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE 
OF TH£ SIAG£ BUSINESS. 



CHICAGO: 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



MART WA.ENEK. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Haymarket Theatre, 
London, June ^Ist, 1869. 

George "Warner, a yoting Engineer, (Tragedy Lead) Mr. Howe. 

Bob Levitt, one of his Fellow- Workmen, a ne'er-do-well, (Haavy).Mr. Kendal. 
Button, (Old Man) i Ot tbe firm of Button & Downes, Median- i Mr. Clark. 

Downes, (Utility) f iuai Engineers and Contractors ( Mr. P. White. 

Tollit, Sergeant of Police, (Comedy) Mr. Compton . 

Tunks, a Prison Warder (character Comedy, Old Man) Mr. Rogers. 

Mr. Bcriven, a Stipendiary Magistrate Mr. Braid. 

Mould, Porter at Button & Co.'s ...Mr. Weathebsby. 

Bissett, Clerk of Court Mr. James. 

Thompson, Usher of Court Mr Johnson. 

Servant , Mr. Webstek. 

Policemen, Mob, &c. 

Mary Warner, George's Wife (Tragedy Lead) Miss B ateman. 

Milly Rigg, Chambermaid, afterwards Mrs, Levitt Bliss C. Hill. 

Mrs. Floyd, Landlady of No. 7 Plum Tree Court (Old Woman). . .Mrs. Laws. 

Mary Warner, a Child aged 7 Miss Mary White. 

Mrs. Frenwick, Matron of Brixton Prison (Utility) d . . . Miss Colemak. 

female Lodgers, &c., &c. 



SCENERY. 
ACT. I.— Scene 1— Engine-bnilder's and iron foundry in 5th grooves. 



Open. 



....A 



*B 



Boor. 



Paiar. I 



Stool. * r—-\ 



Open. 



Open. 



Stool.* • ; 




"Chair. 



Desk. 



Boor 




View on flat of River Thames, looking up river ; St. Paul's and Houses of Parlia- 
ment in the distance ; London Bridge in the middle distance. 4th groove line open. 
A A, in U. i., profile of river bank with anchored and grounded b^rr^e". 3d B., 
B, a steam crane ; C, a steam pump, wheel to work during scene ; D, cii;<ine and 
driving wheel, to work during scene. 3d gixaove line, pillars and cross-pieces, open- 
work to give view ot the machinery • open at C, as a wide doorway. 1st and 2d s., 



mil -Jid 



MAET WAKNEE. 



ofllce interior; square of carpet down c. h. and u. 3 e., open. Maps, plana, dia- 
grams, colored lithographs of steamships, steamboats and locomotives, cut-out 
patterns, models of steam and hydraulic engines, hung on nails or placed about the 
stage. How oi hat pegs, r. 2 e. corner. High double office desk, k of c, with top 
rail, desk-side to lift ; in lett front compartment, a japanned tin cash-box ; high 
stools for it. Borders and sink, 1st and 2d e., represent crossbeams and supports. 
Scene 2 — Street in 1st grooves. Scene 3— Interior in 3d grooves. 

A B 

. I Window. I i Door. | .... 3 



Cupboard. 



"1 « 
■j Fireplace. 



, 1 ^ Chair. 



Door 



Table. 



Chair. 



;^Cradle. 



Room of a well-to-do workman ; carpet down c, five yards square. A, rack- 
ing to window in r., representing opposite side of street. B, backing to d. in F-, 
dark wall. Gas down L. u. e. ; gas up full b. 3. e. corner. Pictures on wall, 
drawings of mechanical objects plainly framed, outline patterns ; ornaments on 
mantelpiece, a clock, flower vases, a gilt cup. C, a settee, with seat to lift up like 
the lid of a box, covered with chintz. D, a side-board, with writing materials on 
it. Curtains ol ckiutz to window ; flower-pots on window-sill. The fireplace, ii. 
1 E. , has a kitchen range, grate in middle ; oven left side with door to open ; hot 
water boiler right side. 

ACT 11— Scene 1— Interior, plain, d. i,. f. Scene 2— Prison interior in 
6 grooves. 

Wall 6 



Open. 



* Chair. 



|A| 



Door 



4 



MAET WAKNEE. 



Dark sinks like large square stone wall. Side sets, stone wall. K. 2 E D., 

saiall grated wicket, high up in it, bolt and lock inside. Opening c, in 5th groove 
fiat, a large doorway, the doors supposed to open all the way back into u. e., and 
are thus unseen from the front ; open space above door barred. The lines B B and 
C represent a fence, breast high, of two-inch plank, slate color, with black per- 
pendicular stripes to lor.k like iron uprights ; black top edge as if iron rail ; from 
B B B's, upper edge to the flies, a netting of fine wire, thrce-inch-square meshes. 
A, a door in the c. fence, which gives entrance to the b. 3 e. comer, where is a chair 
for the matron. 

ACT III. -Scene 1.— Garret and view of London in 4th grooves. 
View of City and Eiver 4 



*Limelight. 



I Window. I 



Table. 

□ 



() 



Door 



1 



The view is by moonlight of London, th- Thames, near Westminster Bridge, as 
from an upper-floor. Bed, r. 2 e. corner, is concealed by hangings of old and tatter- 
ed chintz, hung on clothes-line. A clothes-line from o. on f. to l. 2 e., with an odd 
stocking or two. All the furnitme poor. A, wash-basin On a atool. The window 
b large for moonlight effect ; one curtain and a newspaper pinned on its lower 
panes ; panes broken. 
Scene 2.— Boom, plain, in 1st grooves. Scene 3.— Interior of Police Court in 4th 
grooves. B. side the entrances open. 

I Door I ,..- 

H I i 




Wall on flat; A, witness stand ; a sentry box, open in front, with door B, to 
open behind. C, the dock, a railed-in stand ; rail mid-high. D D, seat for clerk of 



MART WAKNEH. 5 

court and reporter. E, magistrate's seat and desk, on a platform raised above the 
stage level three feet. F F, seats. G, open space for spectators. H H, fence, mid- 
high. 1 1, fence, breast high. K, desk for writer. 

ACT IV.— ^ce»e 1.— An alley, winter's night effect, in 5th grooves. 



Open. 



*B 




I Door I 




On flat, housetops of London. A, the clock tower of the Houses of Parliament. 
Sunset light. C. v. E., set house. Houses r. and l., very poor, old and ruined. 
Snow-cloth down, and snow on houses. R. 2 e., house, with three steps to door; 
bell-pull to door, bell to ring within. B B B, gaslamps, to light. Limelight for 
moonlight, t. 1 e., to throw light on k. 1 e. corner. 

Scene 2.— A plain room in 1st cut, Ist grooves. A chintz curtain precisely like 
that of bed in Scene Ist, Act 3d bangs, l. F. as if hiding bed. Fireplac? 
painted, e. r. Scene 3. — Rich interior in 2d cutof 1st grooves. Scene 4.— flichly furT 
nished drawing-room in 5th grooves. 



* Fountain. 



Open. 



• —[] Shelves. 
: ("I Table. 



Shelves []— | 
Table, f "] • 



Door. 



Table. 



'Chair. 



:* Chair. Chair. ♦ I | ♦ Chair. 



Open: 



Door. 



Open. 



D MABX WAKNEB. 

On flat, conservatory. Rich curtains to open doorway in 4th grooves, looped np 
each sidi!. Shelves or etageres, k. and l. 3 e. Gaselier c 2 e. Two large lamps, 
B. 2 E., on table. Fancy table L. 2 e. On shelves, n. 3 e., the gilt cup in Act I. 
Scene 2d, Fountain o. u. e., large, with globe of goldfish under the jet. Carpet 
down. 



COSTUMES. 

Geokge Waener— .4rf Z— Cloth cap, white linen jacket and overalls over dark 
vest and pants ; shoes. Pair of compasses in jacket right-hand pocket. Chin 
beard and bushy side whiskers. Acl //.—Dark blue jacket, dark vest ; white 
overalls, clean; cap as before. Act ///—"Walking dress, high black hat, white 
vest, gray pants with black cord down seam, watch-chain ; beard trimmed care- 
fully. Act /K— Dark suit. 

Bob Levitt— -<1c< /.—Moustache, small and carefully trimmed ; gay, reckless air. 
Hickory shirt, black tie with fancy pin ; white overalls, much blackened with 
iron dust; glazed cap; black jacket, hair rather long. ^c< //.—Hair and beard 
imtrimmed and very wild. Black high hat much battered ; black velvet cutaway 
coat, torn under the arms to show soiled white shirt ; light pants, soiled. Acti 
JJI. and I r.— Very ragged black suit, no shirt collar ; ragged handkerchiel 
around neck. Black wideawake. 

ToLLiT.— Side whiskers, or close shaven. London policeman's uniform, blue, brass 
buttons ; two white chevrons on each sleeve, as he is a Sergeant. 

Tones. — Prison warder's uniform, a darker blue than the policeman's ; frock coat ; 
blue cloth cap with black glazed peak ; pocket book with bankbilLs in it .for Act 
J. ; cane ; bald on the forehead. 

DuTTON.— Black coat, gray pants, white vest, high black hat. 

DowNEs.— Black suit, high black hat ; pocket-book and watch-chain. 

SOKIVEN.- Black suit, high black hat. Act /r.— Evening dress. 

Mould.— Blue striped shirt, sleeves rolled up to elbow ; hair tossed about care- 
lessly ; brown vest, dark pants, with blue overalls. Hands and clothes stained 
with iron filings and casting-sand. 

BissETT, Clerk of Court.— Plain walking suit. 

Thompson, Usher of Court.— Long black gown with wide banging sleeves— long rod. 

Servant to Warner.— Dark suit. 

Police. — Blue uniforms, helmets, clubs. 

Men for Mob.— Varieties of Londoners' dresses. 

Mary "Warner.— Cheerful looking in Act I. Thereafter, cheeks hollow, no color, 
wearied, yet determined expression. Act J. —Plain white walking dress, white 
bonnet trimmed with blue. Act 11. — Very plain dress, dark slate color ; white 
cap; dark blue apron; on right arm, strip of white for the "good conduct 
mark." .4c< ///.—Dark dress ; red and black check shawl; white apron. Act 
/F.— Same. 

MiLLY Bigg — Act J. — Showy walking dress ; hat with feathers and flowers ; hair 
in curls or chignon. Act II. — Neat dress, hat. Act III. — Very poor dress hair 
caught up carelessly to the back of the head. Act IV. — Tolerably neat dress, 
bonnet. 

Mrs. Floyd.— Cap, large pattern dress ; false curls in front in the old style. 
Scene 3d, Act ///.- Shawl. 

Mrs. Feenwick, prison matron. — Grave, stern face, the lines of the features 
wired to make them prominent. Dark brown dress ; bunch of keys to a chain 
from waistbands. Hair plain, in cap. 
"Women for Mob, — In variety of London women's dresses . 
Mary "Warner, a child of seven years.— "White dress with sash. Hair in curls. 
[For Fioperties and Stage Diiectiona, see last page.] 



MARY WAEKER. 



* ACT I. 

SCENE I. — Office and Foundry in 5th grooves. 

Discover Mr. Dutton at i., front end of desk, 0. 

DrxTON {writing). Yes, I think that is quite right — twenty-four 
pounds, four and six. 

Enter, l. v. e., and in by c. doorway, Mould. 

Mould. A party by appMntment, sir, wants to see you, 

DuT. What's his name ? 

Mould. He wouldn't give any, sir. 

DuT. Wouldn't give his name ] 

Enter, l. u. e., and tn by c. doorway. Sergeant Tollit. 

ToLLiT {salutes). It's about tliat party who is now studying the interior 
of the Model Prison, sir. 
-^ Dot. Oh, Mr. Toilit ! [Exit Mould, l. u b. 

ToL. Hush ! {looks after Mould) Never give names, sir, except to 
your liquor I {comes down) Well, sir, we have completed that case all 
snug, {comes round to R. c.) The fellow was readily found guilty. 

DuT. After a deal of trouble. 

ToL. The trouble's a pleasure. You furnished the information, I nobble 
the party, and there's the end of it. 

Dot. Not, quite the end of it, Mr. Tollit, for I wish to pay you some 
reward — you deserve reward. 

ToL. Well, sir, I've done my iuty. " England expects every man to 
do his duty"— but I never heard it was to be done for nothing ! 

DuT. Right ! what is duty for but to be paid ! {takes bankbiU from 
cash-box) There you aie, Mr. Tollit. {gives bill to Tollit) And I never 
paid away a fiver with more pleasure in all ray life. The fellow would 
iiave still gone on plundering us but for you. 

ToL. Thank you, sir. {pockets note) This thieving by clerks is going 
on in more large places of business than anyone out of the police sus° 
p-^cts. It's lucky that your articles here are so heavy — castings are not 
us liaht as cash-boxes. 

DuT. 1 don't know. Our chaps require a deal of looking after. We 
have to turn out things so cheap that the pick of men won't work for us. 
1 don't like contract work,, as I always tell Mr, Pownes. 



8 MABT WARNER, 

ToL. Ob, sir, I daresfiy there is a deal of robbery going on. 

DuT. We mean to stick more to the instrument malsing. Let others use 
them in manufactures ; what men want is tools, tools, sir. 

ToL. A pretty general want, sir. 

Dot. Why, there's nothing that can't be produced if only the material 
and implements are found I don't despair of seeing a steam police 
some day. Ha, ha ! Wind 'em up to go on the principle of an eight- 
day clock. 

ToL. {imitating striJdng a blow with club with ruler taken off detk). Not 
forgetting the striking movement, ha, ha. 

DuT. Ha, ha, not bad. 

Unter, h v. E., and in by c, Bob Levitt, with a bag of tools and a metal 
faudt in his hand. 

DnT, Well, what do you want 1 {scarcely looks at Levitt. Tollit gives 
Levitt one glance, and then looks round carelessly) Oh ! the working model. 
{takes the faucit from Levitt) It's a new improvement in sugar-mill 
machinery — {to Tollit) one of our m?n gave us the first idea of it, and 
we have patented it. He grumbles about it, I believe. Ah ! there's no 
getting on with the working classes now-a-days ! They have all heard 
of the claims of labor, ha, ha. {moves the metal screw head, etc) Are you 
any judge of such things, Mr. Tollit ! (Tollit shakes his headj Curious, 
this slot and the valve-joint, {goes to table up l , takes up rule, applies it 
to faucit) Yes, j'es — halloa! Let me see ! there's something wrong 
here! {measures with rule) one — two — four — five — yes! {to Levitt) Do 
you call that true to guage 1 Look at the valve ! pshaw ! You have spoilt 
the whole of it by your bungling. Do you call yourself a workman ? 
When you take your wages on pay day, yoa Deed not come here again ? 

Lev. Don't say that, sir. Give a fellow another chance. 

DtJT. {looks at him). O'.i ! {lays metal on l. table) It is Bob Levitt, is it 1 
I might have guessed as much by the work. Mr. Bob Levitt, you were 
evidently planned out for a play-actor, and not an engineer. As you go 
back, tell George Warner I want to see him. (Levitt retires up h. c, dis- 
consolately) Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr, Tollit 1 (goes l, 
with Tollitt) May be you would like to look around the works while 
you are here 1 

ToL, Thank you, sir, I'm wiiat they call a — a — a cunnin'-seer of tools 
—it's quite amazing the march of intellect in roguery. We have made 
an astonishing advance in tools. Did you ever see a first-rate jack-in- 
the-box ? 

Dut, {laughs). Really, Mr. Tollit, you must ask my children that ? 

ToL. Oh ! I mean the tool and not the toy. A cracksman will have 
tools that don't stand in need of finish. A " lagger" don't lag behind 
in the march. It's the effects of scientific eddication. But when a nev? 
idea comes to brains, we have them first, and I'm down on the thieves 
like — like your steam hammer there. 

DtTT. Ah! there's a fine invention— it suits everything — from forging 
a crank to cracking a nut. 

ToL. Well, sir, I don't know much about forging a crank, but crack- 
ing a nut is quite in my line, {he directs Dutton's attention to his not clos- 
ing the desk druwer, and Dutton locks it. They go l., and exeunt l. d., in 
conversation. ) 

Lev. {comes down l. c, looks to l- d.). Go along with you, you hard- 
hearted old rhinoceros ! And sofu headed, too. If it hadn't been for 
the bobby you would have left the cash-box out, and Bob Levitt might 
have helped himself to the wages you owe him. " Heaven helps them 



ACT I. 9 

n:iat helps themselves" — that's a good copybook head. And why not? 
Who is going to help Bob Levitt now that he has got the sack ? Bah ! 
(c.) I wasn't born for lliis dull work, {m deep contempt) Engineering ! 
engineering! mechanical engineer! not even ctvil ! 1 always wanted to 
cut it, and now 1 am obliged to old Diitton foi' tlie shake-off. 1 ou<ilit 
to be a master myself and onler everybody around. Ad I want is caui- 
tal. I've got the style, a handsome bearing, a ricli voice, an easy man- 
ner — all one wants to be an ornament to society, (goes to desk) Tlieie's 
the wings to fly with ! Ah ! if he had only left the key in the lock. 
{about to try to force desk open, turns, looks to L. u. E.) Hullo I here cnmes 
— (goes tip) old Downes, He must not see me here, (goes r.) 1 will go 
into the washing-room. Tliey never goes there — the dirty beggars I 
(with scorn) they never washes their hands, the low fellows 1 

\Exit, R. D. 

Enter, K. u. B., n*id on hy c. d., Downes, followed by Tunks. Downes 
comes to h. front end of desk, and Tunks marches down l. c, around to 
R. c, and takes stool by desk 

Downes. Take a chair, Mr. Tunks, (Tunks seats h-mself) while I make 
out the receipt. (Tunks sponges his face with handkerchief) Forty-one 
pounds, six and eightpence. (writes, while Tunks gets bauklills ready.) 

Tunks (giving biLs). And a very neat job you made of that last order 
— the grating for the visiting cell is most excellent. That was a clever 
young fellow you sent to put it up. 

Downes. Oh, George Warner'? (puts bills in cash-box in desk, which he 
unhcks with his key.^ 

Tunks. Yes. 

Downes. Yes, he's clever, but wrong-headed. He has fallen to read- 
ing the jiapers, and has got filled with stuff about the Rights of Labor, 
Co-operaiiun and all the like — evil ideas. Let the workmen once get a 
finger in tlie pie and they won t leave much for capital. 

Tunks (laughing). There wouldn't be many plums left in the pie, ha, 
lia ! ( puts receipt up.) 

Downes (closes desk). Well, shall I see you out ? 

Tunks. Thnnk you. (they go up a.) Good-morning 1 

Downes. Good-morning. [Hzit with Tunks, c. d. andn. v, B. 

Enter, R. d., Levitt, to c. 

Lev. Right you are, old man ! Here's one of your workmen who is 
going in for his snacks, (goes to desk) He's left the key in — Ah ! (vexed) 
more interruptions ! [Exit, r. d. 

Enter, l. u. e., and on by c. c, George Warner. Enter, l. d., Dutton 

DuT. Ali, George ! Didn't Levitt tell you that I wanted to see you t 

War. No, sir. (cap on) 

DuT. Oh ! he's gone off in the sulks, (gives metal model) Just look at 
tliiit sugar-mill, George, and see what a precious bungle Levitt has mad« 
<f it. Only see that v;ilve. (c.) Ali ! you've found it out! 

War. Oh, there's no mistake about it. (up l, c.) 

DuT. (at desk). No mistake .' It's all mistakes ! 

War. Th.it's what I meant, sir. 

Dut It raust be made over agaku 

War. I say, sir— — 

Dot. What is it \ 



10 MARY WAllIfER. 

War. Wouldn't it save power it— (stops.) 

DuT. What ? {eagerly.) 

War. {gravely). Alter all, it's no business of mine. I'll follow Ihe 
pattern, and that's enough. 

DuT. George, you see your way to some improvement in this? 

War. Well, sir, I think I do. But the idea may be of some good to 
me, yet. 

DuT. Come, come, I like to encouiage inventive talent. Downes 
lauglied at that man with the new slotting movement, but I bought 
it 

War. Yes, you bought it, and patented it in your own name, (jnuslng- 
ly) It inu.st have brought you in a deal of profit. 

DuT. But your idea ? 

War. No! that reminder is a lesson for me to keep my idea to 
myself. 

But. But one of these days you will be a master yourself, and 
one of your workmen may come to you with an idea, which you will 
patent 

War. {frmly). Tlien I will give him a share of the profit. 

But. {shocked). Oil 1 Ah, this comes of your co-operative n'n.^ense. 
What can you do with ;.n idea which you haven't the capital to put into 
form ? 

War. Take it with me to a country where a man can get free 
space to do what he likes with his own. 

But George, speak out ! Bon't be a fool ! 

War. I won't be one again ! Mr. Button, you have no one in 
your employ whom you have done better by than me. 

But. There's not a man in the shop whom I esteem so much as 
you. 

War. {hotly). Theie's twenty whom you give better wages than 
me! I'm tired of it. Me and Mary have been talking the matter over, 
and we have made up our minds to go abroad. 

But. Go abroad ? You will repent it, George. 

War. Then 1 will come back again. But {bashfully) I don't like 
to go out with only what I stand up in — would \ou mind advancing me 
twenty pounds ? {cup in hand.) 

But. Not to cut your own throat ! I think too much of you for 
that, {pause.) But I'll tell you what I wih do. I'll give you a five- 
pound note for your idea. 

War. (puts cop on). No ! you keep your five jiounds, and I'll keep 
my idea, Mr. Button. Five pounds! pah I if I lind n:y t^hare of all I 
have earned for yon, Mr. Button, all that is in that box wouldn't equal 
it, ten times over ! 

But. {sneers). Perhaps you had better help yourself I 

War. No ! I don't want to help myself— not that that would be 
more than my right. I want you to pay me my just share of profits — • 
that would start me in anew country. 

Enter, l. u. e. to c, MotJLD. 

Mould. Mr. Bovvnes wants to see you, sir. 

But. Tell him 1 will be with him directly. {Exit Mould, l. u. e.) 
Well, think it ovei, George, {closes drawer cnid la vcs kiy in) BiiTt do 
what you will repent, {to l. u- e) I'll soon he back. \Exit. 

\Nab.. {alone). There! I told Mary how it would be. And Bulto; s llia 
best of the two. This is how he ti eats me !— me that's made manv a 
twenty pound tor him ! Hesays I wiJ repent. Well, maybe I vvjll^hut it 



ACI 1. 11 

won't be because he did not oblige me, I'm sorry 1 ever asked him. 
J can find work anywhere — Mary will carry the happiness of our little 
home along witli us, and our little glf_ will never know what our life 
threatened to be before we took up our dwelling abroad, So, good-bye, 
Dm ton &- Downes ' leaving you is the best day's work 1 ever did for 
myself — may it be a lesson for you not to drive away the very bearers 
and supports of your bouse. [£Ixit, u, v. e. Jy c. o. 

Enter, b. d. to c, canttously, Levitt. 

Levitt, Bravo Ob, them hounds that don't think an honest work- 
man is worth his salt. I'll help myself to my share — old Dutton has 
left open the salt-box. {wlnsiles as he lays his hand on desk, l., front end) 
As we say in the shop — the metal is all ready to cut and run! {about to 
open desk) Hark ! here's a stoppage ! [Exit, r. d. 

Enter, L. v, E., and on hj c, d,, Maey Warner, followed by Mould. 

Mould {up l. c). They've just gone out, Mrs. Warner, but one or 
t'other of them will be back presently. Shall I tell George you are 
here 1 

Mrs. Warner. No! I have my reasons. 

Mould. You always have your reasons, Mrs. Warner. I say to my 
young woman that that's where you differ from other young women — 
they never have any reasons. [Exit, c. d. and l. u. e. 

Mrs. W. I am glad I did not meet George as I came in — I can- 
not wish to see him now. 1 came along so hopeful, but somehow my 
heart sinks now I am here. I know what his modesty is — he shrinks 
from asking anything like a favor, or not the exact due of what he has 
earned. It's my duty to spare him all I can, and a request hke this 
may come from a woman's mouth, (r. c by desk) Yet I don't like it! 
Courage 1 Better that I than he, should ask them for what George calls 
his rights, {leans one hand on stool B- c.) 

Enter, l. d., Dutton. 

Dut. {cheerfully). My dear Mrs. Warner, how do you do 1 (to desk, 
looks around) Where is George ? I left him here not a moment ago, and 
told him to wait. 

Mrs. W. There was no one here when I came, and I am glad of it. 
I did not want Geoi'ge to know I came here. 

Dut. Oh ! a secret from your husband ? 

Mrs. W. Except by the result of my visit, I wish George not to know 
of it. I came to spare him trouble. I wish to ask you to lend us 
twenty pounds, as we are going to the United States, and want money 
in case of ill luck at first. 

Dut. That's what George spoke to me about when he was here not 
a minute ago. I couldn't let so good a hand go off on a wild goose 
chase. Still, I offered him five pounds for an idea of his, which shows 
I had no ill feeling. But he is full of that communism, socialism and 
co-operation nonsense. I hope you will talk to him and bring him back 
to his senses. 

Mrs. W. After all he has done for you in this place, you won't help 
us on our way to the New World 1 

Dut, I should never forgive myself if I did. Come, look at it 
seriously. Isn't the five pounds in the hand better than any amount in 



12 MAKY WAKNER. 

tlie bush 1 Ah ! you will see it soberly. You don't fire up like George. 
You take things diflFerentiy from him, I see, 

Mrs. W. (shakes her head). No ; I knew what it would cost him to ask 
that favor, but I did not know till now what it was to be refused, {going 
up c.) 

DuT. No ; I'll not let you go away in anger like that, Mrs. Warner. 
I esteem you and George too highly to lose you. He and I parted in a 
bit of a quarrel — he said that I owed him ten times what money I had 
here, and i don't like high words — it put up my dander, I can tell you. 
Now you talk to him soothingly, and make him see that it would be 
better for him to take the five pounds, and stay where he is ; you take 
the money — say, it is for baby 

Mrs. W. No! what he didn't think was enough for him, I know was 
too little. Thank you, I'd rather not. 

DuT. Well, I never knew the equal of you as an obstinate couple. 
I'll send George in here to you, and that will make you each ashamed of 
the other. 

Mrs. W. No ; fifty times five pounds couldn't do that, sir. 

Enter, l. n. E. to c. Mould. 

Mould (tucking up his shirt-sleeves, already rolled up to the elbow). They 
are going to run that great spur-wheel, sir ! 

Ddt. Very well; I'm a-coming. (Exit Mould quickly, l. u. e.) Wait 
till you see me. Think it over. You'll think better of it. I won't be 
long. [Exit, L. u. E. 

Mrs. W. (alone). He says I will think better of it! (smiles contemptu- 
ously) Shall I wait till George comes 1 (goes up) No, bettei" that I siiould 
go without his knowing tliat I ever came. That's the man that George 
has given the best of bis young years to, and yet he refuses to fill his 
hand — aye, with what he has earned over and over again. Wait till he 
returns! not I! I'll work my fingers to the bone before I would ask hie 
help again ! [Exit, c. d. and b. u. e. 

Enter, b. d., Levitt, 

Lev. Ha ! It was lucky I had to bolt back ! Here's a touching story 
for ray gentle ears ! To go and refuse twenty pounds to a man that has 
made hundreds for them — the raisers ! (to desk) I'H give them twenty- 
five out of the haul, before they shall be done out of their rights. 
The key's forgotten, (opens desk and gets cash-box) Easy done I and no- 
body the wiser, (puts box in his tool bag, which he shoulders) I've done a 
good day's work — I'll go home and go to bed ! 

[Exit, c. D. and r. d. E. 

Enter, l. d., Button, Downes and Tollit. Tollit up l. c, Dutton ta 
L. front end of desk, and Downes to R. side of desk. 

Dut. Oh, she has gone, then. 

Downes. Who's that 1 

Dux. George Warner's wife. She's off" in a huff", because I refused him 
a loan. 

Downes. Of course, you refused ? 

Dux. Of course, and I told his wife that it was foolishness to leave a 
good place to overstock America. Bless you, all the foresight and care- 
fulness of business men is on this side of the water. 

DowNBS. Beyond doubt. 



ACT I. 13 

ToL. Of course, sir. Oh, Mr. Dution, some one's left the key in the 
drawer. 

Dowses. Eh ! it wasn't me—(.iees that he has his kei/) — ^by the way, 
Dutton, I've put that payment in, tlie Brixton Prisoa job— -you'll fiad it 
all right. 

DuT. (opens drawer) Hullo ! I say Downes ! 

DowNES. What! had a strolie 1 

Dot. It's gone ! 

J°^- ^ Wliat'sgone? 

DoWNES. ) * 

DaT. The cash-box! 

DowNES. The devil ! 

ToL. If parties will lea,ve keys in parties' drawers, other parties will 
turn them! It's human nature. Let's look at the matter calmly. Who 
put money in last 1 

Downes. I did, not a quarter of an hour ago. 

Tor,. Now then to discover who took out. You put in. Who has 
been in the office 1 

Ddt. Only George Warner and his wife. I left each in the office 
alone. 

Toi,. That's the clue. Who did it — let's toss up ! "Maa or woman?" 

Scene changes to 
SCENE IL— Street in 1st groov 
Enter, R., Mrs. Warner. Enter Milly Rigg, l., to meet, b. C. 

Mrs. W. What ! Milly Ri2s; ! 

MiLLY. M try Warner ! {theij shake hands and kiss) I h«»e Hot seei; 
you for so long ! 

Mrs. W. Oh, Milly ! how gay you are ! 

Mil. And how shabby you look ! How's baby, and what's made you 
look so down in the mouth. Where have you been keeping yourself, 
you bad old girl. 

Mrs. W. I have been very busy at home with baby and ray husband, 

Mrii. Oh ! certainly. Have you heard of my good luck "? 

Mrs. W. {sadly). That you have found a husband ? 

Mil. And you don't congratulate me 1 Oh 1 I see ! You never for- 
get that Bob Levitt paid you attentions. 

Mrs. W. It is not that. 

Mil. 1 suppose then that your husband sets you against him 1 

Mrs. W. I never loved Bob Levitt. 

Mil. Of course not ! Pooh ! don't ba a goose. Why shouldn't we 
be married ? 

Mrs. W. I don't object. What right have I to interfere, though I only 
care to ensure your happiness 1 

Mil. Don't say that? Who got me a situation when I was out of 
work — who spent her Sundays a-nursing me when I was ill— and gave 
me so much good advice th;it I don't make any use of? (presses Mrs. 
Warner's hand.) 

Mrs. W Ah, Milly, you are light-spirited, but you have a good, kind, 
loving heart. That's why I want only a deserving man to have tsuch a 
treasure. I wish that was soon. I shall leave you with a lieavy heart, 
if you are not well wedded before we have gone to America. 

Mil. Going away 1 

Mrs. W. To America. George is tired of the life he leads here. He 



14 MAEY WAENEE. 

says there is no chance for a man that is down but wants to rise. He 
has given notice to Dutton & Downes of his leaving. By the way, L 
have news for yon from there — but, no 

Mil. Is it bad nev;- 1 It is not of Bob ? what 1 

Mrs. W. I wish I hadn't to say it. He is discharged. 

Mil. Oh ! (then, lightbj) Pooh ! there's plenty of shops ag good as 
Button & Downes'. He won't have to go far witiiout finding a door 
open. 

Mrs. W. But they won't give him a character, I hear. 

Mil. {tauntingly). Did George have nothing good to say for this old 
lover of yours ? 

Mrs. W. George had no chance to speak for him. Ah, Milly, Bob 
does not like work — he is much too fond of pleasure. 

Mil. What do you expect of the young ? Why shouldn't we go 
ahead ? I'm fond of pleasure — we are both fond of pleasure. I am 
not going to be a nun, for anybody that I know, vVhen are we to have 
our fling ? {very gayly) But Bob is waiting for me. We are going to the 
theatre, and then hie for Cremorne and a dance on the crystal platform. 
{dances while singing "la, la, la" to a popular waltz tune) Oh I he's the 
loveliest partner. Bob is ! 

Mrs. W. Oh, Milly, don't! 

Mil. Partner in the lancers, partner in life ! 

Mrs. W. No, Milly. He is not the man for a wife who thinks of 
pleasure first, and business afterwards. The time will come soon when 
you will hunger for what you now waste. 

Mil. Time enough to make bread when it is wanted. For my part I 
don't see what there is against Bob, and my being Mrs. Levitt. Where's 
the harm. He's got all the accomplishments ! He sings a good song, 
and he polks divinely. What they call an A 1 swell ! If he was in a 
higher sphere, he would be voted a tip-top ornament to societj'. 

Mrs. W. Aye, Milly, if he were in a higher sphere, his gifts might be 
prizes to him, but what lias a working man to do with such things. Well 
for him if he can live from day to day, with one continual effort of self- 
devotion. George often says that a working man must not think of lux- 
uries. 

Mil. Pooh ! we will do without the necessaries of life in order to 
have the luxuries. We shall do together, never fear. If butterflies do 
only enjoy the summer, what matter 1 isn't that the best of the year ? 
But I am keeping Bob waiting for me 

Mrs. W. No!— don't go. Nay, you shall not leave me. Something 
tells me that no good will result from your intimacy with that man. 
You know how light and fickle he is, and how seldom he is at home. 
Come with me, dear, and I will show j'ou what home with a happy hus- 
band really is — a welcome always at the door and peace and deep con- 
tent within. (Milly struggles with her, both going l.) 

Mil. But I can't break my appointment. 

Mrs "'. Only for once. Do come. [They exeunt l. 

Scene changes to 

SCENE III. — Interior of dwelling house in Zd grooves, 

Enter, D. in F., Bob Levitt. 

Levitt {comes down c., with cash-box brought out from under his coat). 
There is no one here. George and Ma;y not come home yet. They 
will little suspect who has been here in their absence. An angel's visit 



ACT I. 15 

— " doing good by stealth" — and afraid to say anything about it. {grtt 
chiael) Here's one of George's tools — I wonder if it will fit. {breaks open 
cash-box) The triclc's done ! notes — gold ! Whew ! here's a nest of gold- 
finches ! {whistles) And a heap of notes that they've been pillowed on. 
{counts^bank-bills) Five— ten — twenty — twenly-five— thirty — sixty— (?hw)«- 
bles the rest indistinctly) two hundred and fifty pounds, by Jove ! sinking 
the small change [ {rises from stooping over box on tabU c.) This is something 
like a morning's work ! Now to help this young couple on their venture 
to America. Bob Levitt always keeps his word, {counts banlc-bills) Five, 
five — ten — twenty and five. Right ! I'll wrap it up in a bit of paper. 
{gets paper) What's this 1 {reads) " List of steamers sailing to the 
United States." Blank the other side — that'll do. {folds bills in pnper) 
Where's pen and ink ? (gets pen and ink from sideboard up c.) I'll write 
my name on the back — {stops his hand) no, I won't, neither, (writes) 
" From an unknown benefactor." They'll think it comes from old Dui- 
ton. {quickly, laughing) And so it does, too. (fills his pockets with bills and 
coin) What shall I do with the cash-box ? {looks rotwd^ Oh ! the sofa — 
the lid lifts up — {opens settee, l.) — in the well is the place. ( puis box in- 
side settee) When they have gone, I can buy this in when their sticks 
are sold off! Till then, let well alone, (closes settee top. and goes vp c.) 
Now I am off", (opens d. p., but closes it instantly) There's somebody 
coming up stairs. They've come home. I'll run up stairs — I hate grati- 
tude. \_Exit D. F. A pause, stage clear. 

Enter, d. f., Mrs. Wakner and Millt Rigg, coming down c. 

Mes. W. Here we are. George is not in yet. I'm glad of it. I 
don't like him to find me out, and nothing ready for him. Take off 
your things. (Milly loosens strings of her hat, etc., but need not remove it ; 
Mrs. Warner gets apron within l. d.) Now, Milly, {ties on apron ; leads 
Milly to cradle Vi., front) I'll show you the great attraction of the es- 
tablishment. 

Mil. What's thatl 

Mrs. W. The baby! (hmness at cradle.) 

Mil. Oh, I forgot ! 

Mrs. W. I wouldn't show it to everybody. 

Mil. Oh, my ! what a little thing it is ! 

Mrs. W. Little ! it's very big for its age ! it's a lovely baby 

Mil. Ah ! I don't see much of it — I can only see its eyes ! 

Mrs. W. Isn't it lovely, now 1 

Mil. It's opening its mouth ! what does it say ? 

Mrs. W. Pshaw! it can't speak! 

Mil. Oh, how stupid ! But then I don't know much about babies. 

Mrs. W. {takes gilt cup from mantle shelf). Isn't that nice 1 

Mil. (carelessly). It is pretty. 

Mrs. W. (indignantly). Pretty ! It is splendid ! Do you see them 1 
(points to pictures.) 

Mil. {looks round). The what ? 

Mrs. W. The drawings — George did them all — they are wonderful, 
aint they ? and all out of his own head ! I don't understand them, but 
they are so good. They are mechanical. 

Mil. {looks at drawing). Is that a dahlia or a pigeon ? 

Mrs. W. For shame, Milly. What an idea ! (both at c, Milly on her 
left) How snug and how nice a home! Really, Milly, I don't know how 
1 can ever leave it for a new one abroad. 

Mil. Don't! stay with us! (Mrs. W. lays table, spreads cloth, etc.) 



16 MAET WABNfit. 

Can't T help you ? I may be going to housekeeping myself soon, and 
then I may be glad to have learnt. 

Mrs. W. Oh, you may. (Millt he^s her to set table) Here, put the 
tea-pot on the hob to draw. 

Mil. Sliould I drop it ? 

Mbs W. Don't, for George wouldn't forgive you, though I did. 
(^MihLY puts tea-pot r. 1 b- 

Mil. If you we'en't going away, it would be so nice for me to 
come every day for a lesson, {takes up milk jug) Is this to go on the 
fire, too 1 

Mrs. W. Bless us, no ! Come sit you down, and let me go on with the 
rest myself. 

MtL. Are you sure I am not in the way 1 (seated l. of table.) 

Mrs. W. {arranging things on table). You are in th e right way, dear. 

Mil How quick you are, Mary, and how neat. 

Mrs. W. {smiles). Oh ! it wasn't always so. I shall never forget the 
first dinner I made for George after we were married. It was all spoilt, 
and the beef was burned to a coal {laughs). I daresay he thought he 
had got a bad bargain. But I have improved wonderfully since my 
first start. 

Mil. There was no room for improvement. 

Mrs. W. {suddenly, after glancing b.). Milly, do you like beefsteak 
pie'? 

Mil. {enthusiastically). I adore beefsteak pie ! 

Mrs. W. Because I have made one. (Millt rises) And you may 
take it out of the oven if you like. 

Mil. {goes r.). It's the first time I ever did such a thing in my life. 
{in opening oven door, burns her fingers, goes to c, business of shaking her 
hand, putting it to her lips, etc.) Oil ! 

Mrs. W. (half laughing). Poor Milly ! has she hurt her poor fingers! 

Mil. a beefsteak pie may be a very nice thina, but it is awfully 
hot. (Mrs. W. takes pie from oven with a holder) Oh I you did not tell 
me of that. 

Mrs. W. I thought everybody knew that much. 

Mil. Thanks for the lesson. I'll have it at my fingers end here- 
after, long enough. (Mrs. W. puts pie on table) What, aint you going 
to give baby a piece of pie ? 

Mrs. W. What a horrible ideal 

Mil. It will keep it quiet. 

Mrs, W. {to cradle). Keep it quiet — a dear diamond duck of a quiet 
baby that it is ! 

Mil. {hides her face in her hands and sobs). Oh ! 

Mrs. W. {goes to her). Oh ! Milly, what's the matter 1 {takes her 
head in her hands and soothes her.) 

Mil. Nothing, nothing, {tearfully) but the seeing you so happy in 
your happy little home, makes me feel what a bad, wicked, useless girl 
I am ! 

Mrs. W. Not useless, Milly. You are too good not to have such a 
home yourself. 

Mil. Don't praise me — don't pity me ! I don't deserve it ! 

Mrs. W. There are none of us that deserve good fortune ; we can 
only try. 

Mil. I never can hope for it. 

Mrs. W. Oh! dry your eyes, {bell -l,). Here's George! he mustn't 
see you in tears ! He sees nothing but smiles here ! (Millt rises ; Mrs. 
Warner goes up too. f. ) There are two — he has brought some one 
with him. No.! it is not his step ! {as d. f. opetis, she recedes down l. c.) 



ACT 1. 17 

Enter, x>. F-, Downes and Button, who come down R.side to front. Enter, 
same, Tollit.* 

Mrs. W. Mr. Dutton ? (puzzled.) 

DuT. George not homo yet ? 

Mrs. W. He has not come in yet. What do you want with him. 

Ddt. I'd rather not say before third parties, {indicating Milly.) 

DowNES. Who is that ? 

Mrs. W. That's Miss Rigg — a friend of mine, and George's. You 
can say anything you have got to say before her. I am not ashamed of 
George, and I know he is not ashamed of me. 

ToL. Better let me speak, gentlemen. The sooner we get it out, the 
sooner the young woman will get over it. The fact is, it's a small mat- 
ter of robbery. 

Mi^. Rubbery ! 

Mrs. W. Robbery, and my George ! {deep unbelief.) 

Enter, d. p., Warner, throws Ms cap l. and comes down l. c, whistling 
lighUy ; when about to embrace Mrs. Warner, sees Dutton. 

War. Mr. Downes ! and Mr, Button ! {sees Tollit, with contempt) 
What, does he want here? (Mrs. Warnar clings to him.) 

Dut. George, we have missed something from the office—— 

Mrs. W. And they suspect you of taking it 

Dut. Only he and you were in the place at the time. 

War. Why, she has not been near your office ! 

Dut. Oh, yes, she has. 

Mrs. W. It is true. 

War. And you never told me ? 

Mrs. W. I meant to spare you the pain of a refusal, George, though 
I did not know then how painful it would be. 

War. Well, what of it 7 Because an honest man asked his employers 
to lend him a few pound.s, is he to have his home broken into by police- 
men like this ? 

But. It is not that, George. 

War. What then ? Is it some lie trumped up to bind a man down 
here when he wants to go to a country where a working man is not ex- 
posed to being intruded into like this. 

But. George, you and your wife, were left alone in our office, where 
the cash-box was, in an open drawer. You knew where it was, and 
wliat it was, for you said to me that it contained money that yoa had 
earned, and twenty times as much ! 

War. So I did, and so it is. 

ToL. Better not say any more. It may be used against you. 

War. Better your bad word than your good. Out of my house (Mes'. 
Warner and Millt cling to him) or I'll smash you, policeman though 
you are. 

ToL. You see, gentlemen, T was right when I said we had better have 
help at hand, {blows whistle) Easy does it. No violence, my man. 

Enter, d p., Two Policemen. 

Look there! (Mrs. Warner /«?«<« m Milly's a«<^ Warner's arms) The 
young woman is took bad. 

* Tollit.* 
Button* * Milly. 

POWNES.* *MRa. Wabneb, 



18 , ' "hakt waknee,' 

War. This 5s my reward for all I have done for you (looJcs at Dptton) 
and him. {looks at Downes.) 

DuT. I'm sorry for you, George. This comes of giving way to all 
the wild schemes of co-operation and taking possession of " your own." 

War. {fiercely). How dare you accuse me of talking your dirty 
money ? 

ToL. It's two to one against you. Begin your search, (/o ^Ae Police- 
men) There hasn't been time to hide anything. {Ist Policeman fi.Hds 
notes in paper on side-board up c. and gives to Tollit) Wliathave we here % 
Notes — the notes. Which of you gentlemen took the number of the 
notes. (PowNES gives him a paper) Do tl.ey run to tally ? Beyond a 
doubt. Here's five of them any how ! {general emotion.) 

War. Five of the notes here"? 

ToL. Is this chisel yours ? {chisel taken wp from table.) 

War. Yes. 

ToL. {examines chisel). This is the instrument the box was opened with. 
{to Police) Looli for the cash-box — it can't be far off. {2d Policeman 
finds cash-box, l ) 

Mrs. W. {aside, looking at Warner suspiciously). This is the first time 
that I have been ashamed for him. {2d Policeman gives Tollit th6 
eash-box. ) 

War. What proof have you % Get out of my house ! 

ToL. Empty ! of course. Stand at the door ! {to \st Policeman) 
Here is the proof. It's a complete case, {general consternation) Parties 
left alone in parlies' ofiice — parties' casii-box missing— i)ariie3 says that 
the money was their own by rights — casii-box found in parties' room, 
with parties' chisel to fit parties' cash-box. Now then, which of yuu 
gentlemen gives him in charge 1 

Mrs. W. George ! George ! {aside) He won't speak, {aloud) Stop ! he 
is innocent ! 

ToL. Oh, of course, you will swear to it ! 

DuT. Then, who did it % 

Mrs. W. {wildly and powerfully). Take me away, for it was 1 1 

Mil. ? V I 

WAB.iY«"' 

Put. She! 

All form picture. 

* Policeman. 
* Downes. *2nd Policeman. 

♦DtJTTON. *ToLLiT. * Mrs. Warner. * Warner. *MiLLr. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT ir. 

SCENE I. — Rocni in 1st grooves. 
Enter, l., Millt and Tunks. 

Mil. {to B. c). Come in, Mr. Tunks. {gets her sewing r ) Here's my 
little room I thank you very much for seeing me home. Shan t I get 
you someibing'? 

Tjjnks (l. c). No, thauk you. 1 never take anything before dinner, 



/ICT II. 



19 



Mil. Won't you take a chair, at least ? 

Tdnks. Ah ! that won't get into ray head, (chuckles, teats himself l. 
c.) You see, my dear, 1 have grown-up daughters of my own and I 
wouldn't Uke to let them walk alone all the way from Brixton, and they 
are neither as young nor as pretty as you, my dear ! meaning no offence, 
my dear. 

Mil. It's such a good protection to have your arm, sir. 

TuNKS. Yes, there's not much to fear with me. 

Mil. Only to think, though, that when I first went to visit Mary 
Warner in the prison, you quite frightened me. 

TuNKS. I am glad of it. 

Mil. {surprised). Glad of it "? 

Tdnks. Yes. You see, my dear, we prison authorities have to culti- 
vate an^^ir that will strike terror into the evil-doers. 

Mil. You are kind enough to he my father. 

TuNKS. I wish I was, and happy and proud I would be of it. Such 
well-conducted girls are rare. Ah ! it's a consolation to know that we 
have our rules and regulations for us while we are on duty; and when 
we are off, we have one rule : " Do as you would be dene by." 

Mil. You dear, kind, old man, 1 have a great mind to give you a 
great big kiss. 

TuNKS. Don't balk your inclination, my dear. 1 have daughters ol 
my own, and I am used to it. 

Mil. {kisses him). That's for being so kind to me. {kisses him) And 
that's for being so kind to Mary Warner. 

TuNKS. Ah ! it would be hard not to be kind to her, poor scul ! It's 
a hai-d trial for her, but bravely she bears it. Why, she has done more 
good in that there prison than a ton of tracts. I often wonder how she 
could ever have taken that cash-box. I wouldn't believe it unless she 
had confessed it. 

Mil. I'll not believe it. No; not if all the policemen in London 
swore to it till they were as blue as their coats. 

TuNKS. Mr. Tollit told me as how it was the prettiest piece of cir- 
cumstantial evidence as ever was heard in the Central Criminal Court. 
It's my belief the devil was at her elbow when she did it. The old gen^ 
lleman is sometimes let off duty down below to have his diversion up 
here. 

Mil. It's so unfortunate ! her happy home broken up, her little one 
motherless, and her husband lonely. And only because she helped her- 
self when tho.se that ought to have behaved better, refused what would 
lave been only a drop in the bucket. It was the stinginess of Dutton 
jL Downes that caused it all 

Tdnks No, my dear. Pity her, if you will, but don't excuse her, 
not before one of the authorities. 

Mil. 1 won't excuse her husband. George has not been to see her 
since she was in, has he 1 

Tcnks. Ah! that's like the women. There's no cruelly to you so 
dreadful as desertion. There's many a woman in our place wliose hus- 
band never comes to ask after her, but there's no man wliose wife 
doesn't come on the visiting-day, as punctual as the clock. Ah, my 
dear, your hearts are larger than ours, though your heads are smaller ! 
It's hard upon her, though, to be shunned by him, when she probably 
only committed the theft in the idea of helf.ing her husband. 

Mil. I have written to him. He shall go and see her ! 

Tcnks. I hope he will, iuses) She deserves that comfort if ever a 
prisoner did Well, good-by, my dear. I will tell her anything yovj 
tjave to tell her. 



20 HAKY WARNER. 

Mil. I have nothing worth your takiiis, Mr. Tanks — only ray love. 

TcNKS. That's the best thing I could lake to her, next to her husband. 

Mil. Heaven bless you for ail your kindness to lier. You are only 
too good to her and me. Won't you call on Monday, and have a cup 
of tea ? {going l. with Tdnks.) 

Tpnks. Monday 1 Monday 7 I am engaged Monday, but I can come 
Tuesday, and come I will. 

Mil. Thank you. Good-by ! 

Tpnks. Qood-by! [Exit, u 

Mil. {returns to c). Poor Mary I It is certainly hard for her to be 
left alone by him whom she has most right to expect to come to cheer 
her, while her only friends are strangers. Only to think of the good 
advice that she gave me only the last time before she went away. It 
was well I followed it, for nothing good would have come to me by my 
sharing the shifting fortunes of that wreich Bob Levitt. He's gone off 
on the tramp — I wish I had him here, I'd tramp him. I hope I shall 
never see him again, {knock, l. d.) Who's that 1 Bob 1 Come in ! 

Enter Wabneb, l., dejected in look. 

Oh ! George Warner 1 I am glad to see you. So you got my note ? 

Wab. {sadly). Yes, Milly, I got your letter. Thank you. 

Mil. I knew you must be lonely — 

AVar. I am very lonely 

Mil. Then what must she be with no one to see her. 

War. {taket seat c). I have often thought of that these six months 
we have been apart. My dear Mary ! At the time when you were gone 
to see her, I have been imagining how she looked, and I have fancied 
myself with her. How 1 wanted to hear what she was saying to you 

Mil. How she longs to see you — how she talks of the love she bears 
for you ! 
■ War. Mine has grown for her as I have sat up in our cold and lonely 
room, that used to be so brightened by her. You don't know what a trial 
it is, to turn aside ilie questionsof a babbling child ; to see the neighbors 
avoid me as 1 come along home, and my mates in the shop look askant 
at me. Oh 1 if it had not been that I had hard work and my little one, 
I sliould have taken to drink, or gone for a soldier ! But for the child, 
it would have been hard not to to think (hoarsely) of making away with 
myself some way. 

Mil And leave Mary still more alone 1 

War. Poor girl! poor giil ! what must be her life in there? Its a 
long time to look forward to until I can see her. 

Mil. Why do you wait ? 

War. What ! {sternly) when she has brought disgrace on my name, 
and cast a cloud on her ir.nocent child's future. If she is suffering, so 
am I in sorrow, even beyond hers, for in her was set my pride, my love, 
my joy. 

Mil. What she has done, she did for you, remember. 

War. So it was, poor lass ! (^relenting.) 

Mil, So you will go to cheer her up a little ? won't yon, now ? 

War. Go and see her in that dark dress, behind the railing which I 
put up with these hands, {hides his eyes as tf to shut out the imagined 
sight) With the ring out of my voice and the peace out of my breast ! 

Mil. Let me not go alone, and answer her again that you would not 
come ! 

Wab. {rites). You are right, Milly ! I will go and see herl 



4CT II. 21 

Mill. I knew you would when you once thought of what she suffers 
for you, 

Wak. Yes, she was so pood that tlie black work could have been done 
only for uie. The shame was broiigiit upon lier, all for me, I know, I 
will go ! I will try not to look harsiily on her — only to look at her as 
slie tliaL I loved so dearly that the thought of separation was my great- 
est grief! And how are we parted nowl I wont upbraid her, I will 
speak to her words of hope, and comfort, and consolation. 

Mil. 1 will go with yon, George, (simply) I know the way from hav- 
ing been the road so often. 

Wak. •Jakes her hand). Heaven bless you, for all your kindness to ray 
poor Mary ! I will go home — home {very pathetically) to see baby is 
well — she will ask the last news of her — and then I will go. Wait till I 
come back. 

Mil. That's a brave George! I knew you would act like this, [exit 
Warner, L.) Oh! tiiat's done, {sings and waltzes about) " A-walkir)g in 
the Zoo, a-walking in the Zoo 1 " He will go and gladden her heart! I 
am so happj' — I never was so happy in my life, {changed tone) No! I 
am not happy ! I am miserable, very miserable, and all along of that 
wretch Bob Levitt ! {knock l.) Come in 1 {seated r , sewing) Come in f I 
believe the people are all deaf in the house. 

Enter, L., Bob Levitt, very wretched in looks and tone of voice. 

Lev. What, Milly, don't you know me 1 

Mil. So it is you, is it 1 {pretendedly scornful.) 

Lev. May I come in, Milly? {entering timidly.) 

Mil. You look as if you had come in, already, {rises) You are a pret- 
ty object, you are ! 

Lev. Then there's a couple of us, Milly. (approaching her) You are 
prettier than ever, Milly ! 

Mil. How dare you come to me after staying away so long while you 
had plenty of money ? 

Lev. Don't you repulse me, Milly ? The money's gone and the false 
friends went along with it — I haven't a valuable article to show in ex- 
change for it. I haven t a kind face to turn to, but yours. 

Mil. You had far better take yourself off. I am very angry with you, 
Bob Levitt. 

Lev. {doll fully). Not half so angry as I am with myself. 

Mil. Yon are a wretch ! 

Lev. Desp'rate! or I'd never more Iiave shown my face here. 

Mil Yon have been on the tramp 

Lev. Till I haven't a shoe lo my foot. 

Mil. You have been " on the fuddle. ' 

l,ev. Till there's not a vein in my body but jumps and throbs like a 
punclnng-machine. I've been ill treated by them that courted me 
in my brighter days, and I ve b en kicked out of the very doors where 
I spent uiy money. No one will have me, no one will look at me, and 
so (mournfully) I have come back to you ! 

Mil. Like a bad shilling. Thank you, I am very proud of the pre- 
ference. 

Lev. I know you think badly of me. But every one has some good 
in him that must show some daj'. You don't know how ripe for repent- 
ance a man is when he is so awfully hungry and dry as me this moment. 
I am confoundedly ashamed of myself, and if you could make me more 
ashamed, I would feel obliged to you. 

Mil. Oh, you say so. 



22 MART WARNEE. 

Lev. Miily, you might make me another man. I have been bandied 
about till I'm dizzy and dazed. Renioise has thrown me to liquor, and 
liquor has thrown me back to remorse. Milly, I'm regularly going to 
the bad. 

Mil. Regularly gone, I think. 

Lev. Not yet, Milly ; not yet. I have one chance yet, {dolefully) 
Milly, marry me ! 

Mil. Oh ! {recedes from him a little) And go to the bad along with 
you. {fosses her head) Thank you ! 

Lev. Oil Milly, you can help me back to the right road. I think I 
could go steady in double harness, with a good clear head like yours to 
guide me, and your light hand on tiie reins. All 1 want is some one to 
love and live for. I love you, Milly. Don't say you won't have me. If 
you will only see some good in me, it will be there for you to bring it 
out. 

Mil. I never heard of such a thing ! such impudence ! To be sure, 
you are very low down in the world, and I cant help but feel for you. 

Lev. You don't know how welcome your pity is. You can save me 
from destruction here, and the devil and the deep, deep sea hereafter ! 
{pathetically) Oh Milly, if ever a woman earned heaven by saving a man 
from the other place, you may be that woman ! Dare you trust met 

Mil. You look as if you were miserable. 

Lev. Not more than I feel. 

Mil. Are you not ashamed of yourself 1 

Lev. {groans). Awfully ! 

Mil. An object of charity. 

Lev. I haven't a copper. 

Mil If I forgive you, will you promise to give up drinking, and stick 
to your work for the next three months ? 

Lev. I will 

Mil. Ah, ah ! 

Lev. That is, I will try ; and with your help — And you will have me? 

Mil. {turns away). I will think about it. 

Lev. Ah! {joyfully.) 

Mil Stop a bit! I have not finished with you yet. I can goon 
scolding you as we go over to George Warner's. 

Lev. {taken by surprise and horror). George Wainer 1 {stammering, re- 
ceding to B..) 1 can't stand seeing him, poor fellow ! 

Mil. (c). Ah ! that's just like you men! You won't speak to your 
old male because he is in trouble. He's rot been oi.ce to see his poor 
wife, because she is in prison. If he had been in, she would have been 
there ten times a month. 

Lev. How does poor Mary bear it 1 

Mil. Like a woman ; that is, a great deal better than any man. 

Lev. But she confessed that she took the box. 

Mil. Who would have believed it if she had not 1 

Lev. Milly, she no more took it than I — {quickly) you ! 

Mil. How do you know ? 

Lev. {ytanime7-ing). Why, look at her character ! 

Mil. Her character ! You mean, then, that it must have been George. 
It lies between her and him. ' 

Lev. I duii't believe it was more her than George. It was that is— 

I mean — 

Mil. What do you mean ? 

Lev. Lord help mc ! T don't know what I mean I (Milly gets hat and 
mantle on and goes h.) Don't mind me. IVa ihe D. T. {dehrunu t]anens^ 
Don't leave rae, Milly, don't leave roe alone ! I want drink - 



ACT ir. ^i 

Mil. {takes his fiand). You want pnysic. Vou are very ill, Bob Levitt, 
and 1 won't leave yoii till you have seen tlie doctor. 

Lev. No. no ! a drop of brandy, {hoarsdi/.) 

Mil. ( drmly). Not one ! take one, and yoii have spoken your last 
word to Milly Rigg. i^drags Mm off i^.) 

Lev. a drop of braudyl [Exit, l., struggling with Millt. 

Scene changes to 

SCENE 11,^-Interior of Prison in 4th grooves. Singing of hymn by 
Femaie Voices heard off stage, B. 

pjnter, r. u. e., to opening c, Tunks and Warner. 

TtTNKS. Uncommon fond of singing they are, to be sure. Poor things i 
This is jyhere you stand ; she will come through that door (^points to R. 
p.) and will stand there. There's the matroa'a place. But, I forgot, 
you have done work in this cell ? 

War. Yes. {sadly) I put up tliose rails. 

TuNKS. Then you understand. There goes the lock. They are 
coming. 

War. Then we will not be alone. 

TuNKS. Only the matron. There's the rules and regulations. Yon 
will have twenty minutes— good measure for her sake, {pause) Speak 
kindly to her 1 she wants it, poor thing ! and she deserves it ! 

[Exit, B. u. B. 

Enter, b, d., Mrs. Warner and Matron. Matron enters the enclosed 
space, and takes seat there, r, Mrs. Warner comes to r. c. 

Mrs. W. George, my husband ! {they look at each other. Both are sub- 
dued in voice and manner up to the dose of the Act, when Mrs. Warner 
gives way to her emotion in the wildest manner) You are there, George ? 

War. Yes, Mary, I am here. 

Mrs. W. You are not much changed ; you are paler. 

War. That's bettor than I could expect. 

Mrs. W. It's six months since I wrote to you, and you did not answer ; 
not even have you written to me. 1 don't want to reproach you, George, 
now that I do have you here Speak to nip, George. 

War. {tearfully). My poor lass, my poor lass ! 

Mrs W. Don't cry, dear. Remember, we have only twenty minute 
— don't let us waste them. Dear baby, is she well and happy f 

War. Well and happy. 

Mrs. W. Who have you had to take care of her? 

War. Mrs. Russell has been very good to her, and Milly Rigg looks 
in often. 

Mrs. W. Heaven rewaid them. Milly has a good heart. How are 
you getting on? 

War. I have not been out of work. I am at Wheeler's, with a better 
berth than I had at Dutton's, and ten shillings rise. 

Mrs. W. I am so glad of it, I am so glad of that. Does baby ask 
where is her mother 1 

War. Often, and that's what cuts my heart. 

Mrs. W. And what do you tell her ? 

War. That mother has gone away, a long way off. 

Mrs. W. Yes, a long way from her — {quickly) but you tell her that I 
shall come back soon. I don't mind it so very much, though five years 
seems so long. But they will take off a year and more of it, and {turm 



24 MART WARNER. 

to Matron) I have no reports against me, do I, ma'am? (<Aff Matron 
pretends to he dozing with her eyes half closed) She don't hear us. She is a 
good kind soul, and we may speak out before her. I shnll bear it all, 
Georse, all the sorrow and the shame. I don't mean to blame you, dear. 

War. (looks up surprised). FoM blame me? 

MivS. W. How could I prevent doing as I did ? 

War. Was the temptation so strong upon you ? 

Mrs. W. The temptation ? {surpriaed—saaly) ^ don't repent what I 
have done. 

War. {shocked and surprised). You don't repent what you have done 1 

Mrs. W. It was to save you. 

War. To save me ! Better that you had let me go down to ruin than 
be saved by that ! {his tone and manner, like hers, become more and inore 
animated from this out.) 

Mrs W. Oh ! I don't deserve this ! {bitterly.) 

War. Well, what can I say 1 

Mrs. W. I do not ask you to accuse yourself of the crime for which 
I suffer — no, no. I thought that you would feel for me, and would 
come to console me before this. Better you had not come at all, than 
to be coldly silent or to speak stern words. 

War. You speak of your suflering and shame ! Don't I know whai 
shame and sorrow is — as I sit, under the weight of it, in the cloud of 
that crime in our desolate home, shutting out of my ears the cry of our 
child, for I hate to hear her ask the question which I must answer with 
a lie. If I had only lost ray wife, the pain would have beea greater, 
though the grief were less profound. 

Mrs. W. Oh ! the hard-hearted cruelty of the man ! I begged for a 
kind word of comfort, and was willing to suffer all the consequences of 
the guilt, and not by speech or sign to own it. (to Matron) Look you, 
you are a woman and have a heart — look at this man, to whom I have 
given my love and life ! When trial comes up'^n us, he shrinks from 
me ; and when I am parted from my home and my child, he makes the 
separation all the harder to me ! 

Matron {rises). Really I must now allow this. If you cannot speak 
more quietly, you cannot see your husband again. 

Mrs. W. You hear that, George ? 

War. {sadly). I hear it. 

M^&.Vi. {indignnntly). And say nothing ? {fiercely) I can live without 
you henceforth ! See if you can live without her who has been a good 
mother to your child and a wife more than true to your good name ! 
Never come to see me again ! Go home, George Warner, to the desolate 
fireside that you have made desolate, which will never know me again • 
to the helpless child tliat you have made motherless, who will never see me 
again ! {voice trembles a little but becomes firm again. Quickly) It was you 
who put up these bars ! You have this day set up a blacker separation 
between us — black as your unrelenting heart ! strong and cold with the 
iron of your will — the barrier of an unrepentant spirit! {lifts her 
arms as tf to appeal to heaven against Warner. Warner bows his head, 
fnll of grief and surprise. Matron is about to interfere and silence Mrs. 
Warner.) 

Picture, 

* Warner. 3 b. 

* Matron. 2 b. 

♦Mrs. Warner, Ik. 

ggRTAi{(. 



ACT III. 25 

ACT in. 

SCENE I. — Garret in ith grooves. Stage dark. Moonlight effect. 

Discover Millt up b., sewing. 

Mill. ( plaintively). How cold it is ; my fingers are too numb to do this 
coarse work. Oh, Bob, Bob ! I could forgive you for your neglect of 
nie, but not for youvs of our poor child. I don't care for myself. I 
married you with my eyes open, in spite of poor Mary's warning. While 
you are idling about, our poor babe is dying for want of the costly food 
which the doctors say alone will save him. Oh ! it is so hard not to be 
able to save the creature to whom one gave life. May I not murmur 
sometimes'? Oh, why are there rich people, who let sweet babes like 
mine die for want of what would aever be missed out of their abund- 
ance. Alas ! if he lives, with a mother weaker each day from want of 
common necessaries, and a shiftless, vagrant father, how hard, poor 
child, will be his life. Yet I pray that Heaven will spare him I {knock, 
h. D.) Come in ! 

JSnter, l. d,, Mrs. Waeneb. 

Mrs. W. I beg your pardon, ma'am. (Millt starts, rises and listens at- 
tentively) I have not lived here long ; but I heard that your child waa 
ill. I have had much experience in nursing children, (l. c.) 

Mil. It is very ill, indeed. They say it will die. (r. c.) 

Mrs. W. I hope not. At any rate, we'll do what we can for it. 

Mil. I have not had my clothes off these three nights. 

Mrs. W. Then you must have a rest. Lie down and have a sleep ; 
I'll sit up by baby. 

Mil. You are very kind, (^takes up cnndle) Will you come nearer the 
light 1 (Mrs. W. comes into ray of light through windoio in f.) Do I not 
know your voice ? Your face is familiar to me. {Qbruptly) 1 thought so I 
You are Mary Warner! 

Mrs. W. Oil ! not that name, now! (c.) Is it possible! Milly Rigg ! 
what has brousht you to this "? 

Mil. Why did I not take your good advice ? I should never have 
mar led Bub Levin 

Mrs W. Levitt's wifel 

Mil Cut you were not by — I'm afraid I allude to what is painful 7 

Mrs. W. No 1 don't fear to hurt my feelings ! I have no feelings now 1 
I am past that. 

Mil. Well, before your time was up, I listened again to his entreaties, 
nnl, in a weak moment of belief in my power to make him a good, in- 
dustrious man, I consented to bear his name, {wipes away tears) He's not 
a bad husband when at his best. But how is it that you are living in a 
place like this 1 

Mrs. W. It is the house for such as I. 1 live here, and support my- 
self with doing " slop-work." I don't want more than my mere exis- 
tence. 

Mil But your husband 1 

Mrs. W. George ! {coldly) I do not live with hi 

Mil. What! won'i he forgive you 1 

Mrs. W. For what I never did It is for me to forgive him. I will 
tell yon, for you will let it go no farther, Milly. And besides, you were 
by when T confessed my guilt. It was done to save my husbandi 
Mil". Then you did not steal — - 



26 MARY WAENEE. 

Mrs. W. No ! When George was accused, I saw it all ! He had given 
way to the belief that he had been wronged, and saw in the ease of 
taking that cash-box the means to repay himself. Prompted by a 
noble impulse of love, I took ihe crime upon myself, and confessed in 
his stead, rletermined to bear all for him, ihat he might keep his place 
in the world, his name unblackened, and a home for our little child. 
But he feared still what I had saved him from. It was six months 
before he came to my prison. Then I had written to him. and you 
know, received no reply. That I could have borne. But when he 
came, and all my suspense would have been forgiven him, he was cold 
and cheerless as the walls around me, and I sought for a smile of 
comfort on his stern face, but in vain. I met him with a heart ready to 
overflow with pent-up love, but he was cold in tone and chary of speech. 
In his coward fear he would not own to the crime whose penalty I en- 
dured, and pretended a surprise that doubled his shame. His hardness 
froze my affection, and my love turned to hate and scorn. One word 
brought on another, and my words, begun in joy and tenderness, grew 
into bi tier reproaches. We parted, he in anger, I indignant at so much 
baseness in the man to whom I had given so much, for whom 1 bad 
parted with home and child and friends of my heart ! Time passed, 
and my term came to a close. He had written to me, but I gave him 
no reply. Once was forever! When the day came of my release, I 
knew that he was at the doors waiting for me, but I gave him the slip, 
and ever since have eluded his inquiries. As I told him that day when 
we last stood face to face, parted by bars of his own creation, I would 
never see him again ! And I will keep ray word till I die ! 

Mil. {horrified). And your child 1 

Mks. W. {her voice changing to gentleness). Don't talk of her. If I were 
to think of her, I should go mad ! Oil, often in the still hours, and 
through darkness, I feel her little hands pulling at my heart-strings. 
Ah ! George loves the child and he will smooth her life for her own 
sake, if not in gratitude to me. Poor motherless one, I would cross the 
earth to take you to my arms again after so long ; but I will return to 
my husband, never, never ! 

Mil. How you must have suffered. 

Mrs. W. More than 1 can tell, or others guess ! Often I wished for 
the end ! Two years have passed, and he has not found traces of me. 
No doubt he thinks me dead, and others too. That's all the better. 
But I forget your sorrows in ray own. You must have suffered, too. 

Mil. My story is soon told. A wife too ignorant to do the work that 
she is too weak to seek ; a husband who spends his time among the idle 
and dissolute, as indolent and reckless as the most of them ; and a child 
that has never known a comfort, save those its poor mother has to rob 
herself of to give it. We tiave parted with everything to live on until 
now. Where we are to look for another meal, or a rag to cover us, I 
cannot know. 

Mrs. W. I have no money myself— I paid away the last for rent here. 
But I have some owing me. Work has been scarce to me ; it is hard to 
get rid of the jail mark ! {takes loeddmg ring off) But here, on this you 
can get something. You know the neighborhood, and can find a pawn- 
broker ; there may be one open. 

Mil. Your ring ! 

Mrs. W. {softly, half aside) I have kept it through all. As well now 
as later. 

Mil. I can't take that 1 We will wait for better times. 

Mrs. W. Baby cannot wait. Take it. I shall have money soon, and 
I can get it back. You must not let the child perish for want of food. 



aCi III. 27 

Go ! I will take care of baby till you come back. I will stay here and 
wait, (goes to bed up b.) 

Mil. {looks at bed.) He has cried himself to sleep, {puts on bonnet.) 

Mrs. W. Take my shawl, (pives shawl) It is bitter cold. 

Mil. God bless you. { puts on shawl ; hurriedly) How good you are 
I shall not be long. [Exit, l. d. 

Mrs. W. Poor Milly ! to think of her having been brought to this 
strait,. Others have griefs and sufferings as well as ourselves, {takes 
seat by table, L. side of it) How cold it is! her poor little one sleeps 
quietly — I can hardly hear it breathe, {tenderly) I wonder where mj 
little girl is to-night 1 Asleep, I hope, iu her nice wartn bed, for he will 
see that she has everything she wants — all save what a mother's sharp 
sight could see she needs. My poor little Mary, far away from youi 
mother, does the love of her who loves you so well, visit you in youi 
innoceqj dreams. Oh! my darling ! {lets her head droop forward upon her 
arms on table). 

{ Voice of Levitt, off l.). Confound the stairs ! Show us a light, 
Milly ! 

Enters, l. d., lounges across to fireplace, b. 1. e., and seats himself there. 

Lev. Old Floyd stopped me on the stairs about the back rent, as 
usual. Pay rent, indeed, when we have to get along without brandy 
{plays with poker.) 

Mr3. W. (up c, aside). Poor Milly 

Lev. Nobody doing nothing, and don't want nobody to help ! Broo-oo I 
{rubs his hands) how cold it is, and it looks like snowing. No fire for a 
fellow, and I haven't the price of a quartern of gin to mend his boots, 
{holds up foot) worn out like the wearer on the tramp, (pause) How's 
the kid. 

Mrs. W. Very ill. 

Lev. You don't say so, Milly. {interested, turns round.) 

Mrs. W. It is not Milly. 

Lev. (rises). Not Milly I 

Mrs. W. She has gone out to get something for the child. (c."> 

Lev. Not Milly I (to r. c) Who is it then 1 

Mrs W, Do yon not know me "? Have you forgotten Mary Warner % 

Lev. Mary Warner! (very excited) Forgotten you ! (hoarsely) I wish 
I could forget you ! But is it you, or (in terror) your ghost ! I've seen 
that often enough, Heaven knows ! Are you real, or is it D. T. 1 

Mrs. W. (coldly). I am the real Mary Warner. I heard your child 
cry and came in to spend the night with it, not knowing it was Milly's, 
my old friend's. 

Lev. You came in to nurse my child ? (goes up to bed) Is he so bad. 

Mrs. W. Perhaps dying ! 

Lev. Not that ! (opens curtain at the side and looks within) Have I 
TTronsht you to this, poor little beggar ! and beggar's brat ! Right you 
are, Bob ! not a penny to put life into his little weakly body, or to get 
his poor father a drop of brandy to warm him this miserable weather. 
[to c, Mrs Warner coming down and to K. G. front) Where, do you 
say, has Milly gone ? 

Mrs. W. Gone to the pawnbroker's. 

Lev. (surprised). To the pawnbroker's ! Well, I'm glad she has got 
something to pop ! I haven't — my venerable uncle would turn up his 
Qose at my rags. 

Mrs. W. (quietly). I lent her my wedding-ring. 

Lev. So you have been standing my wife's friend ! You find money 



28 MA.KT WAKNER, 

for my poor child, you that got five years' penal for the robbery of that 
cash- box ! 

Mrs. W. Ah ! 1 have told the truth to you wif — I am innocent. I 
never took it. 

Lev. Ah ! {sadly) who knows that better than I ? 
Mrs. W. I did not do it, though 1 confe.ssed to the act. 
Lev. That's what floors me. {very excitedly) You wait here till I come 
back! Don't be afraid ! It's not D. T. this time— I am not going to 
make a hole in the water. I must find Miily ! {inoves about frantically') 
I'll make a clean breast of it. As well first as last — there had to be 
an end of it some day — I'm tired of it ! What if they do give me 
" penal ! " Milly will get along much better without me. than With such 
a millstone round her innocent Beck. And the kid ! {staggers to bed) 
No ! I can't give myself up ! I should feel I was making him a poor little 
orphan — robbing him of a father at the very time when he wants him 
most. I must see Milly ! {gcis l.) You wait here ! [Extt, l. d. 

Mrs. W. {to c )■ What does he mean ? Is he drunk ? what's that he 
fays about knowing my innocence better than me. and making a clean 
breast of it? of what? Oh! if George — if George after all should not 
be the one — and all these j ears of sorrow to us both ! Oh ! I must see 
bim again, and make him tell me all. {goes l.) 

Enter, L. d., nervously, Milly. 

Mil. Oh ! {starts bach, and then goes to table and looks at purae in her 
hand.) 

Mbs, W. Have you not seen your husband % 

Mil. {hoarsely). No I has he been in 1 

Mrs. W. He has just gone out to meet you. 

Mil. I must have passed him on the stairs, {givei Mrs. Warner ri«^) 
Never mind — I couldn't face him now. {wipes forehead with sleeve. Gives 
showl to Mrs. Warner, who mechamcally puts it on.) 

Mrs. W. What ! {sadly) wouldn't they lend you anything on it 1 {puts 
on ring.) 

Mil. I didn't ask. {takes com, leaves purse on table) They are all closed. 
I met a kind gentleman in the street, and he let me have a lot of money. 
There's some for you. 

Mrs. W. How your hand trembles ! how ycur heart beats! 

Mil. {stammers). I have been running, {gets bosket up l. and goes to L. 
D ) I will soon come back, {astde, at l. d.) Ah, my darling, you shan't 
starve now ! [Exit, l. d., with basket. 

Mrs. W. My ring has brought good luck to her. Milly, the proud 
and light-hearted, forced to beg I How wild she looked, {goes to table) 
She will have all she wants for the child, {starts, takes up purse) Four 
sovereigns I what a lot of money {starts ivith great surprise) This purse ! 
how strange ! it is the very color and make of one I netted for George ! 
the first present I made him after our marriage. Oh, then we were so 
happy that no one could have dreamt of such days as these. Is the 
night as dark to him as to me. Oh, that I might see him again ! any 
way, any where, have the sight of my husband, (c.) 

Voices, L., and scuffle. Mrs. Floyd, entering, l. 

I tell you that it's a mistake ! it can't in reason be here 1 



ACT III. 29 

Enter, l. d., Tollitt, Two Policemen, several Women and Children 
fur crowd. Mrs. Warner goes up c. Mrs. Floyd, r.* 

Mrs. W. Hush ! 

ToL. (c. front). Of course ! tliis is the most respectable room in the 
most respectable house in PlumUee Court, which is the most respectable 
court in Westminster. Ah ! {sees Mrs. Warner) That's you, young 
woman ! I want you to come with us. 

Mrs. W. Wanted to come with you ? where ? 

ToL. In the first place to the Rochester Road station-bouse. 

Mrs. W. Station-house % 

ToL. Yes I 

Mrs. W. What for 1 

ToL. For robbery from the person as we call it, but I suppose you 
would ca41 it a lark ! 

Police. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. W. {aside, glancing at Millt, who hangs her head). I understand 
it all now ! {aloud) Robbery ! Why, I have not been out of the bouse 
this night ! 

Mrs. Floyd. Not she ! 

ToL. Of course, not ! 

Police. Ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Floyd (<o Tollit). It's my new first-floor front lodger, and a 
most respectable ! she pays her rent in advance ! 

ToL. If she didn't go out of the house this night, perhaps this puss 
{takes up purse from table) blew in at the window! {crowd begin to mur- 
mur) Youns; woman, let me give you a bit of advice, seeing as you are 
a new hand, the next time you go on the snatching lay, don't wear a 
shawl {touches fringe of Mrs. Warnrr's shawl) which babbies might 
swear to, let alone Bobbies — Eh 1 {to Pdlice, toho laugh) Will you walk 
or ride ? I should advise you to walk, as the night is chilly and I haven't 
got a foot warmer I 

Police. Ha, ha ! 

Mrs. W. {calmly). I will go with you. (aside) This time, my innocence 
must be proved ! {to Mrs. Floyd) I am very sorry that this should have 
.occurred in your house, but it is nob my fault. Please tell Mrs. Levitt 
what I am charged with, {aside, going l. with Tollit) Poor Milly I I 
see it all now ' 

Aliform picture. 

Crowd. 

Mrs. FjjOTD. Tollit. Mrs. Warner. Police. 

* * * * 

Scene closes in. 

SCENE II. — Somn in Court-house m \st groovei. 

Enter, h., Scriven oMe^ Warner. 

ScRiVEN. I sent for you, Warner, because I have got good news for 
you. They've caught the woman who robbed you. 

* Mrs. "Waener. Police. 

IIbb .Floyd. ♦ Tollii. 



30 MAET WAENEE. 

War. It is bad news ; I was hoping that I should never hear anything 
more of it after I made the complaint. 

ScRiv. Why, it seems a most flragant case. 

War. Who knows what tempted her ? {sadly.) 

ScRiv. Who knows what tempted her ? The money you so impru- 
dently displayed, of course. You are met in the street by a young 
wumau who recites to you the usual story of poverty and misfortune. 
ii's the common thing ! 

War. Because it is so commonly the fact. 

ScRiv. Ha, ha! I wonder that you have retained such a soft place 
in your heart after having been so many years abroad among the wild 
natives and coarse navvies. 

War. It's the cliafiug of rough life that makes onet ender. True, t 
have been long away, and have been busy with speculations and con- 
tracts, In which I made my fortune, but I have never forgotten my 
early experience. I was a workman, an ordinary working man once, and 
I have brushed shoulders with the classes wliich you have seen only 
from the magistrate's bench. 

SoRiv. I beg your pardon. We magistrates of the police courts get 
to sound all the depths of human misery. 

War. You see the crime and evil that festers and swelters in the heat 
of passion, but not the patient wretchedness which shrinks from sight 
and suffers and dies up some blind alley or in the nook of a dead wall, 
secret to the last, too proud to beg in life, too proud to groan at death. 
I wish I had never met that woman. Or, given away to my first impulse, 
to relieve her. 

ScRiv. Instead of obeying sensible second thoughts, and buttoning 
up your pockets. 

War. Her sadden snatching of my purse showed how much she needed 
it. 

ScRiv. Very likely, for drink. 

War. Well, perhaps I take too sentimental a view of these matters, 
Scriven. It comes from the secret in my life. You are not an old 
friend, Scriven, but you are a good and true one, and I must not fear to 
tell you anything. I have had a sad blow in my life. 

SvjRiv. Yes, to be left alone with a motherless child is hard. I know 
what that is. We men do not know the full worth of women till we lose 
them. 

War. I wish I could withdraw the charge. 

ScRiv. Impossible, my dear fellow. You must not let weakness of 
feelings stay your duty to the public. 

War. But can I not avoid appearing to tender my evidence ? 

ScRiv. Well, that may be managed. Usher! {calls off, r.) 

Enter Usher, r. 

Is the inspector who took that woman, charged with robbery from the 
person, into custody, in the court ? 

Usher. Mr. Tollit ? Yes, sir. 

ScRiv. Let me see him directly. [Exit Ushee, r. 

War. Do you not trust the police too much 1 Are they not apt to 
round off their stories so as to always convict. 

ScRiv. Mere professional pride, that's all. 

Enter Tollit, r., he salutei, 

Yoa took that woman in charge, I believe, last night 1 (Warneb l.^ 

thoughtful.') 



ACT III. 31 

ToL. I did, sir. 

ScRiv. Do you tliink your evidence will suffice to convict without call' 
ing oil this gentleman ? 

ToL. I hope so, sir. 

ScRiv. That '"lU do. Just tell my clerk to call you first, {exit ToL- 
LiT, R.) Come, •* niei' ! \^B^it with Warker, r. 

Scene changes to 

SCENE III. — Interior of Court-room in 3rd grooves. 

Discover ChBB.K, Reporters, Police, Usher, Crowd, l. tr. e. corner. 

Enter, d. f. Levitt, Milly and Mrs. Floyd. 

Lev. Make way there for gentlemen of the press ! {business with 
Policemen.) 
Usher. Silence ! silence ! His worship the magistrate. 

Enter, r. to seats r., Scriven and Warkeb. 

ScRiv. {to Warner, seated). Your case is the first one. It will be 
hardly necessary for you to appear — it is clear, {aloud) Bring in the 
prisoner. Eobbery from the person, accused refuses to give her name. 

Enter, L., Tollit and Two Policemen with Mrs. Warner. Tollit goes 
tip L. c, Mrs. Warner gets into dock l, front, and keeps her hands ovef 
her face. 

War. {to Scriven). She is ashamed, poor thing ! 

ScRiv. No ! the usual dodge — it prevents wardens and police recog- 
nizing them. 

Policeman {to Levitt, trying to touch Mrs. Warner). You keep back 
there ! 

Lev. Keep your own back ! 

Usher. Silence ! 

Lev. {to Mrs. Warner). It's all right, Mary ! we are here ! It's me 
and Milly I keep your spirits up ! 

Mrs. W. {looks round). Milly here ! 

Lev. Don't be afraid ! speak the truth — the whole truth and nothing 
but the truth ! 

ScRiv. {to Warner, aside). Did you ever see a charge-sheet 1 Curious, 
eh] 

Mrs. W. {glances across to r., aside, surprised and horrified). George 
Warner ! Heaven help me ! {staggers.) 

Mil. {to Policeman). Do let me to her ! 

Police. Keep back, young woman ! 

Lev. Young woman yourself ! Let the lady alone ! 

Usher. Silence ! 

ScRiv. {to AVarner). Is that the woman you gave into charge ? 

War. I can't make her face out, but that is the shawl she wore. 

ScRiv. We will begin by taking Sergeant Tollit's evidence 

Usher. Sergeant Tollit. 

ToL. {gets into witness stand up c, and is sworn by book). William Tol- 
lit, sergeant, C. Division, {returns book to Clerk) 1 was on duty in thi 
Rochester Road last night 

ScEiv. Where 1 



32 MARY WARNER 

Tor,. Westminster, sir, where I saw the party on the bench. 

ScRtv. Oh ! the prisoner sitting in the docli 1 

Tor.. Not the person in the docli, sir, but the gentleman on the bench. 

ScRiv. (to Warner). Oh! you are-" the party on the bench." {he and 
Warner smile.) 

ToL, And I saw the prisoner accosting him. 

ScRiv. Whatl 

ToL. (emphatic lilt/). Accosting him, your worship. 

ScRiv. What do you mean by accosting hito 1 

ToL. As females generally do accost ! 

ScRiv. How ? 

ToL. She went up to the gentleman and asked him for something. 

ScKiv. She begged of him ? 

ToL. Yes, your worship. 

ScRiv. Well, did he give her anything 1 

ToL. No, your worship, but I saw him thinking of it. 

ScRiv. You saw the gentleman thinking ! (to Warner) A new dis- 
covery in optics, eh, Warner ? 

Toil. He put his hand in his pocket to give her money, but then he 
thought better of it, and didn't give anything. 

SoRtv. Ob, I see. 

ToL. Then slie turned away as if desperate, and began to cry, which 
was complained of by the corner publican as disorderly conduct. 

ScRiv. But she is charged with robbery from the person. 

ToL Which I said so, your worship. When the gentleman raised the 
ci-y, she dropped it 

ScRiv. The purse ? 

ToL. No, she hooked it — ran away 

ScRiv. Oh! 

ToL. But 1 followed her and saw her run up into Plumtree Court—— 

ScRiv. A bad neighborhood, I believe ? 

Toii. Which it is in the police books so. 

Mrs. Floyd (very loudly and fiercely). Which it is a lie, as I have had 
my house there these twenty years, and never had my water cut off but 
twice, and that was because of the rates-collector not coming round 
regular, but asking wrong at number seventeen instid of number seving, 
which is my number ! 

ScRiv. Ah ! I suppose that's the landlady 1 

Toii. It is, your worship. 

ScRiv. Put that woman out ! (Police remove Mrs. Floyd, d. p. 
ScRivEN to Warner) These landladies are generally of this description 
— loud voiced and tenacious of reputation. Go on. (to Tollit. ) 

ToL. I sent " C. 30 '' round to the other end of the court, so that she 
couldn't pass through that way. The snow was on the ground, and I 
never lost sight of her, and she went into number seven. I saw a light 
up at the attic window. I went up stairs, and found her, with the 
purse and money (points to Clerk's desk) produced, in that room. 

ScRiv. Oh! and you recognized her? 

ToL. Well, sir, it was night, and I can't say as to her face, but 
(firmly) I can swear to her shawl. 

ScBiv. Don't you know that it is common among women of her sta- 
tion to have that pattern of shawl "^ 

Lev. (delighted). Hear I hear ! 

Usher. Silence! (business o/ Levitt ivith Police, l. p, corner.) 

Mil. Oh, dear ! (very much distressed. ) 

ScRiv. You can stand down. (Tollit leaves stand and eomes around to 
front of railing up c.) Warner. 



ACT III. 33 

War. (rises, presses book wJiich Clerk vresents him). George Warner. 
I was going along ti»e Rocliesler Road, wben a woman spoke to me. 

ScRiv. The prisoner in the bar ? 

War. She hung her head so that I could not see her face, as if 
ashamed. 

Lev. (holding Milly in his arms, she half fainting). So she waa. 

Usher. Silence! 

War. I can only swear that she wore a shawl like that worn there. 
She told me a sad story 

ScRiv. Of course ! Well, is this the purse that she snatched from 
your hands '? 

War. Yes ; it is one without a second, and very dear to me as a 
keepsake. 

Mrs. W. {sobs). Oh ! 

War. §ome of the contents are gone, and, of course, I cannot swear 
to the loose coin. It contained about six pounds. 

ScRiv. {to Mrs. Warner). Take your hands down, how can the 
gentleman see if he can recognize you if you hide your face. 

War. Never mind, I have already said that I would not know her by 
her face, {resumes his seat.) 

ScRiv. Prisoner, you have heard the evidence, what have you to say 
to the charge ? 

Mrs. W. {keeping her hands to her face), I say that I am innocent. I 
was not out of the house all that night. 

ScRiv. An alibi. Have you any witnesses in support. 

Mrs. W. No. 

Lev. Yes ! Me and my wife — worse luck ! {drags Millt around rail- 
ing to c., up. Business with Tollit, who is resisted by Levitt defiantly.) 

ScRiv. {whispers with Clerk). Mr. Tollit, do you say that you think, 
with a remand, you could bring proof of the prisoner's former conviction 
as a thief 1 

Mrs. W. {violently ho'ding out her hands). Are these the hands of a 
thief? {she meets Warner's eyes. Start of both in full recognition) OhI 
{hides her face again and turns her head h ) 

ScEiv. Sergeant, look at her hands. You are more skilled at that 
kind of reading than I. (Tollit takes Mrs. Warner's hands) What do 
they say ? 

Tol. Left fore-finger much torn as by the needle, and both palms 
liardened as by charing 

.Scriv. Eh I that's not like a thief s ! 

H' AR {rising). That is not the woman who took my purse ! 
> Rtv. Not ihe woman ! Why you said that you could notrecogonize 
by hei face ? 
'ar. Yes, but I know her voice. That is not it— I swear that is not 

, voman. 
-> 8cRiv. Then she need not call witnesses in her defence. Pri.soner is 
iTiscliarged. Call the next case. 

Lev. a jolly good job for us ! (Mrs. Warner leaves deck hastily.) 

War. Stop that woni^in — I want lo speak to her 

ToL. {pushes Police aside). No ! 

Mrs. AV. Let me go! I want to go ! {goes to l. d.) 

ToL. {to Police). You have no right to stop her. Sue is discnarged. 

War. {frantically). 1 must speak to her. 

All form picture. 



31 MAKT WARNEK. 

ToLLiT keeps Police /rom touching Mrs- Warner going to l. d. Warneb 
is detained by Scriven. All are on their feet, excited. 

* ScRrvEM. * Levitt. * Milly. Police. 

* Clebk. 
* Wabkbb. * ToLLiT. * Mas. Warneb. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. — St7-eet in 6th grooves. Gas dotvn. Moonlight, L. 1 e., r.;ady to 
fall on TR.frord. Gas ready turned on to light in lamps up R. set. 
Snowballs at intervals. Music, mournful. 

Buster, slowly, as if tired, Mrs. Warner, l. u. e., to vl. front. 

Mrs. W. There's no one following me. I have given them all the slip. 
(r. front) I am at home at last. ( Utterly) At home. This is my home ! — 
To think that I should have seen hlin sitting on the bench beside the 
magistrate, well dressed and willi all tiie looks of what they call a gen- 
tleman — while I am what he gave me in charge as — a prisoner in the 
dock ! I never knew till then the depth of sorrow and shame, {feeh in 
her pockets) At least, he cannot think me the thief I have not got the 
key, and nmst ring up Mrs. Floyd, {pulls bell-pull. Bell rings r.) He 
musi not find me here. But that is not likely, for he does not know 
these places as I do. Some one is coming at last, (om doorstep, l. endof it) 
I am wearied and eager for even my poor bed. 

Mrs. Floyd opens b. 1 e. d., and stands in door-way. 

Mrs. F. Pretty hours these, ma'am ! {very angrily.) 
^Mrs. W. I beg your pardon, I am very sorry to have disturbed yon. 

Mrs. F. {sharply). And very sorry you should be ! I can't have par- 
ties in my respectable house who lake other parlies' purses to other 
parties' rooms. 

Mrs. W. But it was a mistake, I was discharged. 

Mrs. F. Which I knows, as I was in the court myself, tilll was put 
out by the nasty obncxious perlice — I dare say they have got me down 
in their books now, me ! Mrs. Jemmia Floyd, of Number 7 Plumtree 
Court. 

Mrs. W. It is so late to-night that I can't find a room. I am very 
tired. Let me in, and I will go away to-morrow. 

Mrs. F. To-morrow won't do for me. Out you are and out j'ou keep. 
Them's my sentiments, and wiiat I says, I sucks to ! You can send for 
your box to-morrow. My first-floor back has given notice, and I expect 
the rest will toiler if I encourages such goin's on. That's all. Good 
night, you can steal off. {slnms door.) 

Mrs. AV. {alone). Ah ! {snow falls) That man would follow me and 
persecute me after all I have given up for his sake — to enable him to 
bold up bis head among the proud and wealthy. The last sacrilice is 



ACT IV. St} 

made now. I am still being punished for his crime. He has goue back 
to his hixmious lioiiie, while I am thrust without a shelter, in these 
rags, into tlie snow. My little Mary will never know how her mother 
died. They say that to them who are overtaken by the frost and the 
snow-falls, death comes like a sweet and peaceful sleep, (sits on door 
step) Come so to me, kind death, (lies down on door step) Come to me 
— for I am weary — weary of this life (sleeps. Moon on k. 1. e.) 

Enter, r. u. e., whistling, a lamplighter who lights lamps R. and exits, R. v: 
E., whistling until he is well of, Fause. Enter b. u. e., Tdnks, well 
wrapped ttp. 

T0NKS. Plumtree Court ? Here we are ! Five— six— seven. That's all 
right, (comes to r. 1. e.) I wonder if they're awake. Hullo, here's a 
young woniau drunk on the door step, or she would not take the stone for 
a bed such a night as this. I say, wake up ! (touchss Mrs. Warner) 
Get up, I want to get to the door. 

Mrs. W. (faintly). Let me sleep ! 

Tdnks. I want to go in. Wake up ! (shakes her) You will get your 
death of cold, (recognizes her on turning her face to the light) What ! 
Mary Warner ! What are you doing here ? (helps her to her feet, she re- 
mains weak and trembling.) 

Mrs. W. Waiting for death. Oh, let me die ! 

TuNKS. Not if James Tanks, prison warder, and as such, one of the 
authorities, knows it I Rouse up ! I am your old friend Tunks I Don't 
you remember me at Brixton 1 What's brought you here ? 

Mrs. W, The landlady will not let me in. 

Tdnks. By what right 1 Oh ! I see— you are behind hand with your 
rent 1, 

Mrs. W. No, it is not that. But I was arrested last night for robbery. 

Tpnks. Oh, robbery ! (aside) Poor thing ! once to the well, always lo 
it till they get broken ! 

Mrs. W. But I was innocent. Oh ! say that you, who hare known 
me so long, believe me innocent ! 

Tunks. I do believe you, my girl. 

Mrs. W. Thank Heaven there is somebody believes me, yet. 

Tdnks (half aside). Her landlady turns her out of doors she is cast 
into prison, she lies down broken-hearted to die — it is hard lines on her 
very hard lines. Look here ! (struts up to bell-pull and pulls tt hard, 
That shows that James Tanks means business, (to Mrs. Warner) 1 came 
here to see Mrs. Levitt, Milly Rigg that was, but I am glad that I 
dropped atop of you, that I am, Mary. 

Mrs F. (ope>is r. 1 e. d J. Now then! (verp sharply) do you think 
doorbells is barrel-h'organs ! Oh I (sees Mrs. Warner) its you at your 
games again? (to Tv^uks) So you've took her up again 1 

Tdnks. I'll take you down, you horrid old flint I how dare you sbat 
out a lodger who has paid all her rent ! 

Mrs. F. (stammers). But she's been in the courts 

Tunks. How would you look in the courts if she had been found in 
the morning on your door-step, you d— d old catamaran I 

Mrs. F. Cata'maryann ! 

Tunks. I'll let you know what it is ! I am James Tunks, one of her 
Majesty's authorities. This is a good young woman, and I am fond 
and proud of hpr. Show me the way to Mrs. Levitt's rooms ! look sharp 
and no sriimbling, or it won't be pleasant to stand in your shoes ! (draws 
Mrs. Warner wtth htm through r. d., and Mrs. Floyd humbly thuta thi 
door.) 



36 MARY WARNEH. 

Scene closes in. 

SCENE U.—Soom in 1st cut of 1st grooves. Gas down Ihree-qmrter turn. 

Enter, r , Tdnks, Mrs. Warner and Mrs. Floyd. Iunks to l. Mrs. 
Warner c, and Mrs. Floyd k. 

TuNKS. Come along, Mary my dear. Have you any such thing as a 
chair here 1 {gets chair l. e. and places it L. c. for Mrs. Warner) Sit 
down, my dear. (Mrs. W. takes seat.) 

Mrs. F, This is Mrs. Levitt's room. She is not home, but she won't 
be long, {goes to curtains, L. c.) Here is her baby — sleeping as quiet as a 
h'oyster, like a pretty darUng that it is. 

TaNKS. A nice article you are to talk of pretty little darlings and bab- 
bies — you that shut your doors on honest, hard working women. 

Mrs. F. But think of my character ! 

TuNKS. {micMng her tone). " Your character ! " A pretty character you 
would have got from the magistrate if she had been frozen to death on 
your step. 

Mrs F. But the name of the 'ouse. 

TiTNKS. A nice name your 'ouse would get with a coroner's inquest 
on the step. 

Mrs. W. I wish I had ! 

TcNKS {goes to her). No, Mary, j'ou don't wish anything half so wick- 
ed as that, {to Mrs. Floyd) Have you got such things as pen and ink 
about the place 1 

Mrs. F. Rayther! there's a beautiful chany inkstand that I won at 
the shilling-go at the Christian Palace. 

TuNKS. Well, as Mrs. Levitt is not here, I will write her a note to 
explain her not finding you {meaning Mrs. Warner) when she comes 
back. [Exit Mrs. Floyd, r. 

Mrs. W. Am I going away ? 

T0NKS. I should rayther think so ! The right way. You shall go 
home with me to ray house in Brixton Avenue. One of my daughters 
has left home, and you can have her room, and her place at the table, 
my dear. 

Mrs. W. But I must do work ? 

TuNKS. I'll find you work so that you can live like a lady. 

Mrs. W. And I must pay my rent 1 

TuNKS. Or I'll be down upon you sharp and heavy, never you fear 
about that ! So get your traps ready. 

Enter, r., Mrs. Floyd. 

Mrs. F. {holds out pen and inkstand). Here they are, sir. 

TuNKS. So that's your shilling's worth of the Christian Palace, is it ? 
{takes pen, Mrs. Floyd holding inkstand) When you were there, t sup- 
pose you were one of the Odd Fellows 1 {writes in his memorandum-hook) 
Do you call this a pen ? It's more like a skewer. 

Mrs. F. Everybody in the 'ouse has used it and the tailor next door, 
and this is the first complaint I have had about it in a month, 

TuNKS. Oh! 

Mrs. F. You must have spoilt the nib ? 

TuNKS. I'll spoil your nib ! This ink is as thick as treacle, and full of 
flies. 

Mrs. F. They gets in there, poor things, to be out of the way of the 
spiders ! 



&.CT IT. 87 

TuNKS. Because you charge them too much rent! {gives note) Give 
this to Mrs. Levilt when slie comes in. And call a cab. 

Mrs. F. {staggered with surprise). Call a what? 

TuNKS. A cab ! I suppose you have seen .«uch an animal as a Han- 
som now and tlien ! And mind ! if you lo.se lliat note, you will have to 
answer lor ii to the authorities — {takes Mrs. Warner k.) — you black- 
heai ted. mulberry-faced old beast ! [Exit b., with Mrs. Warner. 

Mrs F. {staggers back to chair L. C, and falls into it, her arms out, pen 
in one hand, inkstand m the other ; fans herself with pen, pants for breath, 
itc.). Me a mulberry-faced beast ! Oh ! if only Mr. Floyd was living 
now, him that fell from a scaffolding irv tiie Westminster Bridge Road 
and was picked up for dead in Guy's Hospital, that man would never 
have walked out of the house alive. To abuse me in my own room 1 me 
that slaves and starves to keep the house respectable from mornin:i; till 
night witiieuta drop of consolation, {^mechanically lifts the inkbottCe to her 
lips, but discovers her error, rises and puts pen and ink and chair off h.) There 
goes the cab, as I live ! Well, I never ! That's the first cab I have seea 
in Plumtree Court as long as I have been here, except one to take Mrs. 
Fenn to the Fever Hospital, (c.) And how people can ride in them cabs 
when they don't know who has been in them last, is more than 1 can 
see. I don't object to omltbusses or even the underground railway, but 
DO cabs for my money, (bell, off r.) There's some one come in. Oh 1 
they re comina up. The back kitchen must have let them in. 

Enter, b. , Millt and Levitt. » 

There's been a gentleman here inquiring for you, ma'am, (respeetftdlt/, r. 
c.) 
Lev. a gent inquiring about my wife. Hullo, what's the game, (c, 

MlIiliT L. C.T 

Mrs. F. Golden sovereigns is his game, (slm^s coin) He gave that 
to me. 

Lev. For me 1 (Mrs. FLOvn drops her hand to evade his snateh.) 

Mrs. F N'-s for me I There s the card he left for you, ma'am, when 
he couldn't see you. (^wa MiiiLY card and note.) 

Lev. See my wife ■ I'll see him first ! 

Mil. Why, this is abbut Mrs. Smith. 

Lev. Smith? (Milly makes a s gn to hiih) Oh' 

Mrs. F. She's gone away I 

Lev. and Mil. Gone away F 

Mrs. F. Gone away with a person in uniform who said he was one of 
the authorities. If he wasn't a policeman, leastwise he was next door 
to it — for he gave me the wust of bad language! He called me a cata- 
maran, and a mulberry- faced old beast! Pretty language from one of 
the authorities ! 

Lev. {to Millt). What does it say 1 

Mil. (reads note). Oh ! it's Mr. Tunks, the warden at Brixton, who 
has taken her home to his house on Brixton Avenue. How well I re- 
member it — the pretty cottage, half-overgrown with flowers — nothing 
like this ! 

Mrs. F. (proudly). In course not ! How could you expect a cottage 
in the country to be like a 'ouse in town I 

Lev. What's the nob with the card 1 

Mil Hush ! {motton.% that she wants Mrs. Flotd to be sent out.) 

Lev. (to Mrs. Flotd). Well, old girl, if you have finished your row. 
suppose you vacate our ap-Dar-ti-mougs, 

Mbs. F. Your wliat i 



38 ItAKT WAENEE. 

Lev. (mth French shrug of shoulders). Our ap-par-ti-mongs ! 

Mrs. F. {hacking to r. before Levitt, followmg her up). Ah ! Mr. 
Levitt, you are always at it with your chaff"! 

Lev. Lor' bless you, that aiu't chaff— that's French ! 

Mrs. F. That's much the same thing- (Levitt will not let her pass 
either side of him so that she has to go out r.) Well 1 {with affected gayety) 
It's a merry heart that never grieves 1 What's the odds while you are 
happy ! \Exit, k d. 

Mil. Bob, it's George Warner ! 

Lev. George Warner ! {nghast) And this is his address on the card ? 
{rends card) " 8 Cromwell Piace." 

Mil. Where's that? 

Lev. It's one of those new mushroom built squares where there used 
to be open fields, and where they growed the spring rhubarb out by 
Brompton way. A swell place ! 

Mil. He that was your mate in the workshop six years ago • 

Lev. Him with four hundred pounds a year and I with four bob a 
week, and behind at that. 

Mil. Bob, we must bring them together ! You take care of baby 
while I go to George, and tell him of Mary. 

Lev. {abruptly). Step, Milly. I have something to tell you that has 
oeen hanging round my neck these five years, and dragging me down, 
and you and innocent kid, like the curse it is. Milly, do you remem- 
ber, when the cash-box of Dutlon & Downes was stolen ? 

Mil. Yes, yes. 

Lev. Mary Warner never did it, though she confessed to it.' 

Mil. I know it. George Warner took the box. 

Lev. Eh! who says so ? 

Mil. Mary told me so. Don't let it go further. 

Lev. But it was not George 

Mil. Not Geoi ge ! 

Lev. It was me, Milly. 

Mil. You I I will not believe it ! 

Lev. Yes, roe ! I was hid in the washing-place and heard George and 
his wife talk of their want of money. When the coast was clear, I 
crept out and went away wilh the cash-box. 

Mil. And you have let Mary rest under that burden of pain and 
doubt and loss of love all this time ? Oh, Bob ! Bob ! no wonder 
nothing prospered with us. There is only one course now. Bob, you 
must make a clean breast of it. You go to George and tell him 4ill, 
while I go to poor Mary. 

Lev. I will, Milly ! T will! Oh, if I had only known that I should feel 
so much better, I should have had the satisfaction of a clean breast five 
years ago, though I had got five years penal for it. Can you forgive me 
and give me a kiss, Milly ? {they embrace) Oh ! it's such a lelief, you 
can't think ! I feel like another man already ! Give me another ! {they 
embrace) Ah ! I never was so wild with joy ! But it's not D. T. this 
■Jme ! [Exit, k., with Millt. 

Scenes changes to 

SCENE III. — Interior in 2d cut of \st grooves. Gas same. 

Enter, L., Seevant, bowing in Scriven, in full evening d/em. 

Seev. None of the company is here, sii 
ScBiv. (looks at watch). It is past seven. 



ACT IT. 89 

Serv. But the party is put off. 

SoBiv. Oil ! 

( Toice of Little Mary, r.). Papa ! papa ! 

Serv. This is Miss Warner. [Exit, k. 

Enter, r., Little Mart running 

Mart. Oh ! it is not papa,, 

ScRiv. {takes Mary's hands, c). No, It is not your papa. It is only 
a friend of papa and of' you, ray httle girl, who wishes you joy on your 
birthday. 

Mary. Yes, everybody has wished me joy, except papa, and he does 
nothing but cry. Papas shouldn't cry on their little girls' birthdays, 
Bliould they, now 7 

ScRiv. Certainly not, grown-up people should only cry on their own 
birthdays. 

Mauy {looking L.)- Oh, here's papa ! 

Enter, h., Warner, who takes Mary's hand^ 

Wab. In full dress ! Then you have not been told that the party is 
put off? 

ScRiv. Yes, from your servant. Wliat is the cause ? Has a contract 
to build a railway to the Mountains of the Moon failed"? {laughingly.) 

War. No ! all is right in business matters, {to Mary). Mary, my 
darling, run and see what Miss Barker has for you. {exit Mary, h., aside) 
I must tell some one — it is kiHing me to keep it secret, (aloud) My 
friend, my kind friend, you have heard, like all my associates, that ray 
wife was dead. Like the rest, I thought so too. But I have seen her 
tliis morning. 

ScBiv. Seen her — this morning ? 

War. It was not she, I am sure, that I met the night of the robbery, 
and yet I saw her this morning in the dock at your courti 

ScRiv. What! that woman' 

War. Yes, listen. I was a workman in an engineering works, and 
had a good home, and, I thought, a blameless wife. One day she and 
I not together, were left in the office of my employers, and, soon after, 
the cash box left in an open desk, was missed. When they came to 
arrest me, on suspicion, she confessed that she alone had done it, know- 
ing my eagerness to go to America, and she was sentenced to five years 
in prison. For a time, my hurt pride made me cold towards her, and I 
would not write to her or see her. At last, strongly urged, I went one 
day to her prison. I saw her behind the grating that I had myself put 
Uf). Heaven knows that my heart was breaking, but she saw nothing 
of my emotion, and reproached me as if I was the author of the crime. 
Op. one bitter reproach rushed another, and we parted, she vowing 
never to see me again. When her release came, which was early, 
thanks to her good conduct, she eluded my anxious watch, and disap- 
peared until this time. Weary of fruitless search, I went abroad. All 
essays prospered with me, and I returned home rich in pocket, sad in 
heart. How can I meet my little girl, her child, with joy, and receive 
any guests to-night. 

ScRiv. My poor friend, I feel for you. But at least, the unhappy 
woman was not the principal in this last crime. 

War. Not even the accomplice I believe and trust. All her manner 
affected me ao that i h»v« doubts which never came so strongly to me 
before. 



40 MABY WAENBK. 

ScRiv. Perhaps some explanation with her ? 

War. Will serve to a more quiet life for me ? I hope SO. I have ID 
qui lies on foot now that may bring about our interview. 

Enter, e., Servant. 

Servant. A man by appointment, sir— gives the name of Levitt. 

War. a man ] oli, he has come instead of his wife, (to Servant) 
Tell him I will be in the study at once. {Exit Servant r. Warner to 
Sckiven) It is an old friend of mine, who knows my wife's present 
whereabouts. It will be well, perhaps, to question hira before you. 
(ScRiVEN bows. They exeunt k.) 

Scene changes to 

SCENE III. — Interior in 6th grooves. Gas up. Stage clear. Music, 

Enter, sloivly, as if atve-slricken, c. D. from r. v. k., Millt and Mrs. 
Warner. Milly comes down l. c, Mrs. Waenee down c. 

Mes. W. (looking round). Oh ! what beautiful fuiniture! and all is so 
bright! No wonder that people who live in houses like these are differ- 
ent from those in our court. 

Mil. They aie sometimes just as unhappy {aside) Bob is telling him 
now. {aloud) There is kindness in hearts under these roofs, and I am 
suro you will do well if you have the good wishes of the owner here. 

Mrs. W. How did you find out this charitable lady 1 

Mil. Oh ! many of such people have persons who do nothing but go 
about to find such as are worthy of their cares. 

Servant enters r. 

Servant. Master will see you now, ma'am. 

Mil. I thank you. [Exit Servant, b. 

Mrs. W. Master. 

Mil. Oil ! it's the lady's husband. Ladies must have husbands like 
other folks. I will be back soon, {goes r.) Don't despair, Mary ! the 
clouds are breaking now, and one sunbeam is always followed by a host. 
I foresee f^ood coming. [Exit, r. 

Mrs. W. (alone). Always hopeful and cheering, dear Milly ! Seeing 
the light when others are under the shadow. Yet I do feel hopeful, as 
if the air here was pure and sweeter than in our miserable dens. It is 
so bright here ! Where i.s my happy home, where the sun shone ever^ 
not a scrap left of the wreck, (goes up c. and to r. c. up) Ah ! (sees cup 
on etagere) that cup ! it is the very image of that one ! (sobs) the one I 
gave George 1 I will ask the lady of the house for it— and perhaps 
she will give it to me. 

Enter, i., Little Mary. 

Mary. I thought papa was here. You have not seea papa, have 
you? 

Mrs. W. No ! I am waiting to see your mamma, dear. 

Mary (surprised). My mamma ? 

Mrs. W. Yes, she promised me some work. 

Mary. You must be making some mistnke. I have no mamma ; ray 
mamma died so long ago that I hardly remember J ever ha4 one at all, 



ACT IV. 41 

MkS. W. I beg pamon. I meant, the lady of the house. 

Mary. Wliy, that's me ! 1 am the lady of the house ! I make papa 
call me the lady of the house. It's so foolish of papa to say I tnust 
wait till I am old enough. Am I not old enough ! 1 am quite a woman 
grown ! 

Mrs. W. How old are you ? 

Mary. I am seven years old, and this is my birthday. 1 am going to 
have my old nurse here to see me ! won't that be nice ? 

Mrs. W. {absently). Very nice indeed ! seven years old. I wish you 
joy. [^tearfully) Oh ! dear me ' {takes chair b. c. b. of table front.) 

Maey. Oh ! what's the matter ! {goes to her 

Mrs. W. Never mind me. 

Mart. What's made you cry 1 

Mbb. W. I shall be better soon. My darling, my darling ! {sobbing.) 

Maby. ^jit you really mustn't on my birth-day. What are you 
crying for ? 

Mrs. W. I beg your pardon, miss. But I have got a little girl at 
home, whose birthday is to-day, and she is also seven. 

Mary. Oil ! {claps her hands) You must bring her here, and .she shall 
see my doll and toys, and we'll be so happy ! 

Mrs. W. Don't, my darling ! {tearfully throtighout.) 

Mart. I don't Jike it a bit ! I hate to hear you weep ! {tries to soothe 
Mrs. Warner) Don't, don't, don't, poor lady ! {pettishly) I won't love 
you at all if you cry. You are as bad as papa; who has done nothing 
but cry to-day. 

Mrs. W. With joy, my darling, no doubt. It must be something most 
happy to be such a father. May I know his name ? 

Mart. Don't you know that papa is Mr. Warner. Why, everybody 
knows that. My name is Mary Warner. 

Mrs. W. Warner! Is that your name? {very passionately) Then you, 
yoU; you are ray child ! {embraces Mabt) my child, my darling, my long 
lost, my angel ! {kisses her) my own ! (looks at her) Yes, George's eyes ! 
{kisses her) and my hair ! {weeps over her ) 

Mart {struggling). You hurt me — you must be mad ! 

Mrs. W. {calmer). 1 am mad. {sobbipg) Don't mind me. {presses hand 
to her forehead) I thought you were my little girl, my child ! Don't 
call ! don't tell your papa that I spoke to you. He might be angry. 
D n't tell your papa! for I am going away— far away, and you will 
never see me again. Try to tliiiik it was your own mamma, come back 
to see you and love you for a niomeni ! Won't you give me a kiss ! 
{kixses Mart) You won't mind if I cut one little piece of hair, {takes 
scissors from table.) 

Enter Waeneb, e. d. 

One Tittle piece — only one piece — no one will find it out 

War. Mary ! 

Mrs. W. George Warner ! {starts to her feet ; fierce tone) Don't touch 
me ! {to c, Warner b. c.) I have not told her ! I am going away I I 
did not know 

War. But I know all ! That cowardly scoundrel Bob Levitt has con- 
fessed all. 

Mrs. W. All— what 

War. That he stole the cash-box from Dutton & Downes. 

Mrs. W. Then, it was not you! And I could think you guilty? Oh ! 
{falls into Warner's arms.) 

War And I have been guilty ! guilty of doubting the bravest, sweet. 



42 MAKT WABNEB. 

est wife man ever had 1 Only for that cur, we might have not had five 
years lull of regrets. 

Mrs, W. Can you forgive me 1 

Wak. Forgive you ! why, i liave nothing to forgive. But let the past 
burn up its ashes ! A bright future is now before us, and we will never 
look back to the black border of such a broad ocean of happiness. Come 
here, darling ! {takes Mary s hand) This is the precious birthday present 
1 promised you — your mother ! The mother of whom you have heard 
me so often speak. 

Mary. 1 know her already. She loves me very much. 

Mrs. W. She will love you still more as each day dawns on us. George, 
my husband! (they embrace.) 

Maey. And you will never cry any more. 

War. Never ! 

Mrs. W. Yes, we will often ! but they will be tears of joy ! of 
sweetest bappineiis, that wells up from the heart without a care 1 

Ticture. They embracing and Mart tvith a hand held by each of them, 

CURTAm. 



PROPERTIES— {See Scenery.) 

ACT 1.— Scent l4<.— Maps, plans, cut out patterns of parts of machines ; models of 
engines, marine, locomotive, pumpings, etc. ; pair of compasses, to open, for 
"Warner ; a metal faucit for Levitt to enter -witli ; rules, spirit level and other 
engineering tools, on table up l. ; bankbUls — coin in cash-box with bankbilla : 
umbrellas in hat-rack, or under row of hat pegs up b. 3 e. comer; blank books 
on desk ; paper on table up l. ; stools and of&ce arm-chairs ; tool-basket for 
Levitt. Scent 3d.— Cradle, head to the audience, empty ; chairs, table ; apron 
for Mrs. "Warner, l. d., -without ; writing materials on sideboard up c ; table- 
cloth, plates, etc., for three ; pie in dish in oven; kettle holder, chisel on side- 
board up c. ; drawings on flats. ACT II.— Two chairs, table, sewing for Milly. 
Scent 2d.— Bunch of keys for Mrs. Frenwick ; a framed card with head-line. 
Eegulations stuck on b. 2 e. flat. ACT HI.— Scent \st. — Chairs, stools, wash- 
basin, bed, table ; candle in bottle ; wedding ring for Mrs. "Warner ; purse and 
coin for Milly 's second entrance ; basket, clubs for two policemen. Scene Id.— 
Eod for usher. Scene 3d.— Bible, writing materials on desk of magistrate and 
clerk. Clock on flat. ACT I'V.—iS'cene Isi.-Snow and snow-cloth; spirits and 
sponge on end of rod for lamplighter ; limelight, l. 1 e. Scene 2d.— Bed cur- 
tains L. on F., chair l., proscenium e. ; pen and ink, note-book and card for 
Tunks, gold coin for Mrs. Floyd. Scent Ath.—G\\t cup of Act I, Scene 2d, on 
shelves, &. 3. e.; albums on table, limelight to show light on fountain, c, V. k. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience ; L. Left ; C. Centre ; R. C. Eight 
of Centre ; L. C. Left of Centre. D. F. Door in the Fla,t, or Scene running across 
the back of the Stage ; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat ; R. D. F. Right Door in 
the Flat ; L. C. F. Left Door in the Flat ; R. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door ; 1 E. 
First Entrance ; 2 E. Second Entrance : U. E. Upper Entrance ; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, 
Second or Third Groove. 

R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 

By The reader is supposed to be upon the stage facing the ftudience. 



GREEN ROOM EDITION OF 
NEW COPYRIGHTED PLAYS 

ALABAMA 

A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. 

• BY 

AUGUSTUS THOMAS, 

Member of the American Dramatists' Club. 

Author of " The Burglar i'' '■''In Missouri," " Tht Hoosier Doctor ^^ 

" A Man of the World," " The Capitol,^'' "^ Proper Impropriety^^ 

" That Overcoat" " The Man Up Stairs" " Afterthoughts;' Etc. 



THE BEST AMERICAN PLA Y. 



Eight male, four female characters. Full directions and business for 
stage as originally produced by the Author at the Madison Square Theatre. 

Time of Plaiting: Two and one-half hours. 
COSTUMES: Modern. 



" Its character, its atmosphere, its sentiment, its humor, are all pecu- 
liarly American . . , The best English play of these times could not so 
surely touch the hearts of American theatregoers. It will be as popular 
in the South as in the North, and the Western people will like it too." 

— New York Times, 

"There is not one in the twelve characters of the play that is not 
distinctly worth studying." — New York World. 

" It is a good play, to begin with. Next, it is a play by an American ; 
and last, it is a play about Americans." —New York Herald. 



Price, 50 Cents. 



Sent postpaid to any address on receipt of p^ice- 

Complete descriptive catalogue of De Witfs Acting PI*xys 

and De Witfs Ethiopian and Comic Dramas 

sent free on application. 



JUST PUBLISHED 



GREEN ROOM EDITION OF 
NEW COPYRIGHTED PLAYS 

TRELAWNY OF 
THE WELLS 

BY 

ARTHUR W. PINERO 

Author of ''The Benefit of the Doubt,'' ''The Profligate,'' 
Etc.y Etc. 



The Great Success of the Past Theatrical Season 
in New York 



A comedy in four acts for ten male and eight female 
characters. For many years Mr. Pinero has been ac- 
knowledged the first English-speaking dramatic author, 
and he is one of the very few dramatists whose plays are 
as valuable for their literary qualities as their dramatic 
worth. 

Costumes of the early sixties 
Acting Time : Two and one-half hours 



Price, 50 Cents 

Sent postpaid to any address on receipt of price 

Complete Descriptive Catalogue of De Witt's Acting Plays 

and De Witt's Ethiopian and Comic Dramas 

sent free on application. 



GREEN ROOM EDITION OF 
NEW COPYRIGHTED PLAYS 



THE BENEFIT 
OF THE DOUBT. 

BY 
ARTHUR W. PINERO, 

Author of " The Princess and the Butterfly ^ " The Second 
Mrs. Tanqueray^'' " Trelatvney of the Wells,^'' Etc., Etc. 



One of the brightest plays ever written, by one of 
the greatest of living playwrights. 



A Society Comedy in three acts for six female and nine 
male characters, as produced at the Comedy Theatre, 
London. The scenes consist of two interiors easily arranged. 
An excellent play for either amateur or professional per- 
formance. 

Costumes of the present day. 
Acting Time: Two and one-half hours. 



Price, 50 Cents. 

Sefit postpaid to any address on receipt of price. 

Complete descriptive catalogue of De Witfs Acting Plays 

and De Witfs Ethiop^ian and Comic Dramas 

sent fref on application. 

CHICAGO: 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



GREEN ROOM EDITION OF 
NEW COPYRIGHTED PLAYS 

The club FRIEND 



-OR- 



A FASHIONABLE PHYSICIAN 



BY 



Sydney Rosenfeld 

Author of *^ A Possible Case^^ ^^Imagination" "^ House of Cards ^ 
The Passing Show" Co-author of " The Senator" 
Adapter of " The Two Escutcheons" Etc. 



A bright, vivacious society comedy in three acts, for 
six male and five female characters. 



Costumes of the present day. Acting Time: Two hours. 



Price, 50 Cents. 

Sent postpaid to any address on receipt of price. 

Complete descriptive catalogue of De Wiifs Acting Plays and De IVitt's 

Ethiopian and Comic Dramas sent free on application. 



" Mr. Rosenfeld has handled his subject with rare skill, and made a 
play which in many respects is far removed from the conventional modern 
comedy. Mr. Rosenfeld is noted for his skill in writing bright and witty 
dialogue, and he has rarely equalled his text in this piece. It is a delight- 
ful comedy, clean and bright, and should find favor with intelligent audi- 
ences everywhere." — The Boston Herald. 

" The dialogue is deliciously witty. . . An abundance of merry sit- 
uations and clever contrasts of mirth and pathos hold the attention of the 
audience." — The Boston Daily Globe. 



CHICAGO: 
THE DKAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



NEIF COMEDIES 



The Rich Miss Poor 

A PLAT IN ONE ACT 
By CHARLES TOWNSEND 

Author of fifty successful plays 



A charming comedietta of modern life and especially adaptable to 
the amateur stage. 

Characters : Three male, two female. 
Scene: Lawyer's Office. 
Acting Time : Twenty minutes. 



Price, 15 Cents 



Balm of Gilead 

AN ORIGINAL COMEDY IN ONE ACT 
By EDWARD BOLTWOOD 



A delightful play full of new and clever situations and brilliant 

dialogue. 

Chapacters : Two male, two female. 

Scene : Modern drawing room. 

Acting Time : Forty minutes. 



Price, 25 Cents 



TIFO NEW PLAYS 

Dramatized from Stories by Richard Harding Davis 



The Littlest Girl 

A ONE- ACT PLAY 

By ROBERT MILLIARD 

Taken from the story "Her First Appearance" 



Played by Mr. HlUiard for three seasons in the leading theatres 
of America. 

Characters : Three male, one female. 
Scene : A bachelor apartment. 
Acting Time : Twenty minutes. 



Price, 25 Cents 



The Orator of Zapata City 

A ONE- A Cr PLA Y 

By RICHARD HANDING DAVIS 

Taken from his story of the same title. 



This play was written for Mr. E. H. Sothern, and by whose per- 
mission it is now published. It is a strong drama of Western life and 
offers exceptional opportunities for straight and character acting. 

Characters : Eight male, one female. 
Scene : A western court-room. 
Acting Time : Thirty minutes. 



Price, 25 Cents 



lAMONDS AND HEARTS 

a Comedy Drama in Three Acts. 



By EPPIB W. MERRIMAN. 



Price, 25 Cents. 



is new play has bovnaded at once into a wide popularity. 
)od plot, the strong "heart" interest, and the abundant 
r all combine to mike a most excellent drama. "Bub" 
is a fine character of the Josh Whitcomb type, and his 
3 a worthy companion "bit." Sammy is an excruciatingly 
little darky. The other characters are good. Fine oppor- 
for introducing specialties. The play has so many good 
that it never fails to be a success. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

ncE Halstead, a young lady of eighteen,with an affection of 

irt, a love for fun and hatred of arithmetic 

Halstead, her sister, two years younger, fond of frolic 

Gray, a young lady visitor willing to share in the fun 

Halstead, a widow, and stepmother to the Halstead girls. 
<AU Mary Barnes, or "Sis,"a maiden lady who keeps house 

: brother 

3HT Bradley, a fortune hunter and Mrs. Halstead's son by 

3r marriage 

Burton, a young physician 

lY, the darky bell-boy in the Halstead house 

iHAM Barnes, or "Bub," a yankee farmer still unmarried at 

a diamond in the rough '. 

(Rney; Sheriff 

Time of playing, two hours. 
Two interior scenes. Modern costumes. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS: 

I. Parlor of the Halstead home. The young doctor. The three girls 
lake his aequaiatance. An affection of the hoart. "Easy to fool a 
)ctor," bat not so easy after all. The stepmother and her son. The 
amonds. The missing will Plot to win Bernice. "I would not marry 
Bradley for all the wealth the world contains." Driven from home. 
. II. Kitchen of the Barnes' farm house, Bub takes off his boots, 
school ma'am, "Supner's ready." "This is our npphey and he's a 
Recognition. A diflficult problem in arithmetic. The doctor to the 
"I'm just the happiest girl in the world." "I've come to pop the 
, an' why don't I do it?" Brother and sister. "If it's a heifer, it's teh 
" The sheriff. Arrested for stealing the diamonds. "Let me knock 
3d head off." The jewels found in Bernice's trunk. 
. III. Parlor of the Halsted home. "That was a lucky stroke— hiding 
amonds in her trunk." The schemer's plot miscarrips. Abe and 
oin hands. The lawyer. "Buljy for her." Bradley tries to escape 
I don't!" Arrested. "It means, dear, that yon are to be persecntfd no 
Wedding presents, and a w ' dance around them. "It is no trick at 
il a young doctor." 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




010 4 57 260^ 1 # 

PLAYS. 



OEING the largest theatrical booksellei 
'--' the United States, we keep in stock the 
complete and best assorted lines of pla3^s 
entertainment books to be found in this cor 

We can supply an}'' play or book 
lished. We have issued a 144-page cata 
of the best 1500 plays and entertainment 
published in the U. S. and Bngland. It 
tains a full description of each play, g 
number of characters, time of plajdng, see 
costumes, etc. This catalogue will be sent 
on application. 

The plays described are suitable foi 
ateurs and professionals, and nearly all of 
may be performed free of royalty. Person 
terested in draihatic books should examine 
catalogue before ordering elsewhere. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company 

CHICAGO. 



